Mungo Gorsson and the Several Stoned Philosophers
by Cuaglar
Summary: The second book from the eyes of a Scottish Hufflepuff! Follow Mungo as he encounters ambition, margerine, flying lessons, and the final encounter with the Basilisk That's right, the Basilisk.
1. Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived in Per

Mungo Gorsson and the Several Stoned Sorcerers (and one or two Sorceresses)

Author's note: This story takes place in Harry Potter's second year, (Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets) but it is the main character's first year, and thus I am writing the chapter names and the general storyline like the Sorcerer's Stone.) Oh, and if some of you out there are worried about the title, don't worry; alcohol and drugs have no place in this story. The 'Stoned' bit merely refers to the petrified students.

Also, I invented all incantations not from the books, by using a Latin-English dictionary from the closest essences of the spells.

Author's Note (Appended): It is, I think, more than a year since I wrote this. More than two, perhaps. And I came back to look at it, and it is _terrible_. People wondered why I got so few reviews, and I wondered why I got any at all. That is why I've decided to redo this story.

Trouble is, this will be the fourth or fifth time I tried a revision. Nearly all the time before, it never got on the computer, or it got lost into oblivion somewhere. Maybe this is fate's way of saying,

"Enough with Mungo Gorsson, the Scottish Hufflepuff! Forget him I say!"

But I laugh in the face of Fate! (Mostly because he has a funny nose.)

So, presenting Mungo Gorsson and the Several Stoned Sorcerers: Version 6.34!

Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived in Mortal Dread of Fish, the Vanishing Fish, and the Letter from Fish (I mean, Someone).

The Gorsson family was as magical as you could please, thank you very much. They lived in a small, fishing village called Altnaharra in the Scottish Highlands, where Mrs. Gorsson ran a potions shop that was mostly overlooked by the Muggles in the town, and where Mr. Gorsson stayed when he wasn't working as a photographer for the Daily Prophet, the wizarding newspaper. Alice Gorsson was a very attractive woman, with a kindly face and long black hair, but her beauty was marred by a black eye-patch she wore over one eye, having lost it in an accident. Bungo Gorsson was tall and lanky, with light brown hair, and was so thin and delicate-looking that he looked like he might break himself if he moved too quickly, so he always moved with slow, careful movements.

They had a tall, skinny house high above the town on a rocky hill, surrounded by a garden containing strangely colored plants and herbs, as well as more than its fair share of gnomes. They also had a baby son, called Mungo, who they could agree could be a little more handsome, and a little less prone to drool, but they also had a secret, and a most terrible fear that someone would find out.

They were vegetarian.

This might actually be seen as harmless to the Muggles, as far as the Gorssons were aware, but they weren't willing to take a chance, being the only wizarding folk within fifty miles.

Several years passed, and Mungo became a little better-looking, and stopped drooling, for the most part. He went to school with the village children, though he was easily recognizable as an outsider, due to his parent's conceptions of Muggle wardrobe. Mungo, though a friendly and amiable lad, never made great friends with anyone. He was also an obstacle to the teachers, because he frequently interrupted in class when he plainly didn't understand why they needed to bother with such things as pencil sharpeners.

When he was older, and when many complaints from the school had been made about Mungo's eccentric behavior, Mr. and Mrs. Gorsson explained to him the difference between the wizarding world and the Muggles, and the necessity to keep them separate and secret. After Mungo understood, incidents and accidents happened last often. In fact, so little out-of-the-ordinary happened that Mr. and Mrs. Gorsson were beginning to worry, though they didn't tell Mungo. They were hoping for some sign of magic to show, but weren't seeing any. Mungo wasn't subjected to very much in his life that would make him outraged or terrified, and spook his talent out, until one day…

It was Mungo's eighth birthday, and to celebrate Mr. Gorsson had decided that it would be fun to experience what all the tourists to Altnaharra did: fishing on the loch. So, after Mungo had been considerably relaxed by cake and presents, Mr. Gorsson dragged Mungo to the lakeside, and spent a half hour trying to rent a boat while Mungo ran amok along the rocky shoreline.

At last, after finally understanding that forty pence was not sufficient to rent a fishing boat, they got their vessel and shoved it into the loch. Mungo took an immediate distaste to it, and sat sullenly in the bows while Mr. Gorsson rowed out into the middle of the lake, then rowed back upon remembering that he had left the fishing rods and bait back on shore. When Mr. Gorsson finally cast his line into the water, Mungo was thoroughly tired of it.

Hour after hour passed, and no fish bit the hook, even after Mr. Gorsson got up the courage to put a bit of bait on it. If boredom had any material power, Mungo could have blasted a hole in a brick wall with his, and Mr. Gorsson wasn't much better.

It was nearing dusk when Mr. Gorsson said,

"That does it."

And began rowing to a secluded nook along the coastline. He began talking to Mungo as they went,

"We'll just hide away here, then show these Muggles why we REALLY stayed on the water for six hours."

Mungo didn't bother to understand what his father meant by this; he had made a vow not to try to comprehend anything his father did or said ever again three hours after they started fishing.

When they were out of sight, Mr. Gorsson drew his wand from his pocket, and said,

"Here comes the making of the envy of Altnaharra!"

He waved his wand vaguely over the length of the loch, and said triumphantly,

"Accio FISH!"

For a moment, nothing happened, as Mr. Gorsson held his wand up expectantly, and Mungo looked on with bewilderment. Then, suddenly, the entire loch began to churn, white bubbles began appearing all along the surface, as if it was being stirred violently from below. Then, without warning, about three hundred fish suddenly leapt out of the water, and began soaring through the air directly towards Mr. Gorsson, like a swarm of silvery darts, attracted by the spell.

Mungo screamed, and Mr. Gorsson lost his head and began waving his wand frantically, as if he was trying to shoo the fish back into the lake, but his efforts were of no use.

The fish were nearly at the boat, and Mungo was certain his doom was upon him. Shivering in the bows of the boat, he raised his hands, as if to shield himself from the deluge of cold, slippery, and boat-capsizing fish about to strike.

Then, abruptly, the fish disappeared entirely with a loud bang. Simultaneously, the Day of Joyous Falling Fish was first celebrated in a remote, famine-struck village in China.

Mr. Gorsson and Mungo took a while to recover their senses, sitting in the boat while dusk crept in. At last, Mr. Gorsson said,

"Ah, M-Mungo. You'll be a g-g-good lad and not mention this t-t-t-to your mother, won't you?"

Mr. Gorsson mistook Mungo's shocked silence as agreement, and they rowed home, and Mr. Gorsson never went fishing again.

More years passed, and Mungo changed considerably. He grew very tall, for his age, but his eyesight grew steadily worse, a little to his shame. So, though he wore glasses, he never deigned to look through them unless he had to, and typically wore them on the tip of his nose, and looked over the rim.

His dark brown hair also grew longer, to the dismay of his mother, who knew better than to try to cut a wizard's hair, until it was below his shoulders, and his parents insisted that he keep it tied back in a ponytail.

At his tenth birthday, in the middle of May, his parents inexplicably brought him out of school early, and began getting him more involved with their more magical activities. Mungo welcomed this; many of the few students in school that had been halfway friendly with him had already gone off to private schools. Mr. Gorsson occasionally let Mungo help develop his photographs for the Daily Prophet, pictures of events and personages in the wizarding world, but what Mungo got most involved in was his mother's work.

Every day when Mrs. Gorsson went down to open her shop, Jigger's Quality Apothecary, she took Mungo with her. It was hidden from the eyes of Muggles by an enchantment that made it look like an antique store, and came from years when there were many more magically-inclined people in Altnaharra's area. Mrs. Gorsson's father, Arsenius Jigger, had left the store to her instead of one of his older sons, as she was much more talented in potion-making.

Indeed, though the store got little foot-traffic, the quality of her potions was so extraordinary that many ordered her work from all over the country, and she sent the potions to her customers via owl mail.

Mungo helped his mother in the shop nearly all the time, at first just helping her name and sort the phials and packing them up for mail-order customers, and soon he developed a keen interest. Mrs. Gorsson noticed, and soon was letting him assist her with more important tasks, mixing simple solutions and catalysts, and eventually helping her mix simple potions. Though the smell was little hard to bear at first, and he occasionally had to work with unpleasant substances, such as walrus blubber or dragon liver, as the months went by he got more accustomed to it, and by the start of summer he could handle even slippery, gooey thanderbrant roots without making a face.

So Mungo whiled away the time, while his parents, un-noticed by him, began waiting for something, always pausing at breakfast-time to look a few moments out of the window.

On a day halfway through July, when Mungo and Mrs. Gorsson were getting ready to go to the apothecary, something peculiar happened, and apparently the same thing Mr. and Mrs. Gorsson had been waiting for all this time.

A white barn owl flew in the window, holding a parchment envelope with writing in green ink on it in its beak. This was peculiar, because the Gorssons hardly ever received mail that wasn't connected to a holiday, and all mail requests for Mrs. Gorsson's potions went to the shop. Mr. Gorsson, when he saw the bird with the letter, suddenly grew animated, and walked briskly over and snatched the letter from the owl. He dropped it a moment later after sneezing particularly violently; he had picked up a rather nasty cold while working on a story about Romanian dragons. He blew his nose before picking up the letter again, looked at the address, and smiled broadly.

"Mungo," he said, "It's for you!"

Mungo took it out of Mr. Gorsson's hand, very confused. The Gorssons as a whole received little mail, so letter specifically for him were much more rare. He glanced at the address, written in shining green ink.

Mungo Gorsson

The Uppermost Bedroom

The-Tall-Skinny-House-A-Little-Way-South-East-of-The-Loch (the Gorssons had had trouble thinking of a name for their home

Altnaharra, Scotland.

Well, it was certainly for him. He definitely did live on the very top of the house, which gave him a healthy fear of heights. He tore open the envelope, and read the letter inside aloud, in his Highland accent that his parents, being originally from the south, lacked;

"Hogwarts School o' Witchcraft an' Wizardry,

Headmaster Albus Dumbledoore," He skipped over the long line of confusing titles, not knowing what they meant, or what they had to do with him,

Dear Mr. Gorsson,

We're pleased t'inform ye tha' ye've been accepted at Hogwarts School o' Witchcraft an' Wizardry. Please find encloosed a list o' all necessary books an' equipmen'.

Term begins September 1, we awet yer owl by no later than July 31.

Yers sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall.

Deputy Headmistress"

Mungo puzzled over this a moment, and asked,

"What's Hogwarts?"

His parents exchanged happy looks, and Mr. Gorsson came forward and put a hand on his son's shoulder, looking down on him proudly.

"Mungo, you're a w-blachoo!" He said, suddenly sneezing in the middle of his sentence and narrowly avoiding Mungo.

"I'm a which?" Mungo asked, edging a little away.

"No, no, no! You're a wizard!" Mrs. Gorsson said worriedly.

"But I knew tha' already."

"What I meant was, you're a wizard, and as such, you have a magical talent. To train it, and to improve it, you must study. You've been to a Muggle school, and learned the basics. How to read and write, do basic arithmetic, and so on. Now, you have been accepted- Oh, bugger, have to sneeze again. Alice, would you go on, please?"

Mr. Gorsson retired from the field of conversation to sneeze and cough fitfully in the corner of the room, while Mrs. Gorsson continued.

"You have been accepted at Hogwarts, the school of magic for England and Ireland. We've never mentioned it, as it's a tradition in my family to leave it as a pleasant surprise. There you'll learn how to cast spells, make potions, and generally learn about how to get along in the wizarding world. For the longest time, we were worried that you might not be accepted. You've lived a very sheltered life, and there has never been occasion to startle your magic out of you," Mr. Gorsson shuffled uncomfortably in the background, remembering the incident of the fishing trip, "But now you are, and I have a very special gift to give you."

She left the room, and went upstairs. The Gorsson's house was arranged very curiously; each floor only had one or two large rooms, with the entry hall on the ground floor, and the bedrooms and so on further up.

While she was gone, Mungo read through the equipment list, and Mr. Gorsson sniffed miserably in his corner, though his face was still happy. Robes, hat, gloves, cloak, all black with name tags. A book list that he only skipped over. Cauldron, phials, telescope, scales, and- Mungo's heart suddenly leapt- a wand. Mungo had lived all his life in envy of the terrific things his parents did with their wands, and many times he had plotted (unsuccessfully) to try to grab them and use them. Now, he was to have one of his own!

Mrs. Gorsson came back downstairs, holding a hat in her hands. It was a black, pointed wizard's hat with a wide brim, with a black satin headband. In the headband was a long feather, about a foot long, of a dull grey color.

"This was my great-great-great-great grandfather's hat, passed down through the generations, to the most worthy descendant. My father, to the chagrin of your uncles, favored me over them, and handed it down to me when I went to school. And now that you're going, it's yours." Mrs. Gorsson handed him the hat. Mungo stared distastefully at the feather. He thought it looked a little silly, and very bland. But he didn't want to hurt his mother's feelings by expressing his dis-satisfaction.

"Erm, could we get a new feather fer it, p'raps?" Mungo asked, trying to keep disappointment from his voice.

"Oh, I think you'll want to keep the feather, lad. Might prove to be a little more interesting than you think." Mr. Gorsson said, winking. Mungo looked down at the hat again, and put it on his head. Surprisingly, considering how many people had worn it, it fit him perfectly.

"Well, now we have to get Mungo's supplies, soon. I think we should leave to London next Monday, don't you? Spend a little time in London and Diagon Alley, so we won't be rushed?" Mr. Gorsson suggested.

"That's a good idea. We could go to Horizont Ally, in Edinburgh, but we'd have to go south anyway. And there's always better selection in Diagon Alley, and Ollivanders…"

Mungo wandered outside while his parents talked, confident that, whatever plan they worked out, he would be agreeable to it. He sat on a bench, after spooking some gnomes away, and took off his hat to look at it more closely. It had belonged to generations of his mother's family… They must have had fairly poor taste back then, to put such an ugly feather in it. He ran his finger along the plume's length, and was startled to suddenly see a streak o f yellow appear where his finger had touched it. It vanished as soon as it had appeared, and Mungo dismissed it as a trick of the light.

The next couple days seemed to be filled with talk of Hogwarts. His mother would tell him little things and secrets she had discovered while she was there, and both of his parents reminisced about their experiences at the 'castle', as they called it, over meals. Soon he almost got tired of all the talk, while at the same time wishing and wishing that he was there already.


	2. Chapter Two: Diagon Alley

Chapter Two: Diagon Alley: And Beyond!

After nearly a whole day of driving, the Gorssons entered London. Mungo looked out the window excitedly; he had never been south of the Scottish border. He caught a glimpse of the Tower of London, and the Muggle shops.

It was nearly six o'clock when they arrived in front of a dingy looking pub. Mungo looked at it with trepidation.

"Erm, why are we stoppin' here?" Mungo asked.

"That's the Leaky Cauldron, Mungo." Mr. Gorsson said, getting out. "Come on, its quite safe."

Mungo got out of the car, his hat brushing the top of the roof of the car. Every hour of the day, he had grown more attached to the hat, and hadn't taken it off all day.

Mr. Gorsson opened the back of the car and got the trunks out, and with a flick of his wand, they levitated and hovered over to the doorway of the Leaky Cauldron. Mungo walked over and stood next to them.

Mr. Gorsson parked the car, and they all went inside and checked into a room. They spent the night well, and woke up the next morning refreshed.

They went downstairs and ate breakfast, and went into the back yard with some trash bins. Mrs. Gorsson tapped a brick on the wall, and the bricks started removing themselves, forming a gateway. Mungo walked through it first, eager to get in and see the famous Diagon Alley.

Mungo had never been in a large community of wizards before; there wasn't a magical within miles of his hometown of Altnaharra. He looked at all the shops so quickly his mother once asked him if he was having a fit. He stood transfixed outside the Apothecary, and Mr. Gorsson had to drag him away by force.

"Look, son, we have to get our money from Gringotts. Why don't you go to Flourish and Blotts and gather your books together, here's the list." Mr. Gorsson handed Mungo a sheet of paper. "Just gather them up, and we'll find you and pay for them."

"Okay, da'." Mungo clutched the paper tightly and went into the store.

There was a long queue, apparently all witches. Mungo tried to look over their shoulders, but he was too short. Instead, he just joined it. Puffs of smoke appeared every now and then, and clicking noises sounded. Finally Mungo got where the line was thicker, just to see a blonde-haired man in (blank) robes stand up and whisper dramatically,

"It can't be Harry Potter!"

Mungo turned around in line, and there, about three spaces behind him, was a rather sooty and wide-eyed replica of Harry Potter. A chap in a green cloak and funny hat grabbed Potter's arm and dragged him forward, where Lockhart gripped him in a friendly embrace and smiled.

"Give a big smile Harry, together…" Lockhart said, but Mungo lost interest and walked away.

Mungo walked amongst the shelves, picking up his schoolbooks and some books he thought were interesting, such as _The Masters Guide to Potions: When and How to Use Them_, and _Alchemists through the Ages._ Mungo started to go and wait by the entrance, when he heard a drawling, arrogant voice say,

"Famous Potter, can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page!"

Oh, Potter made the front page of the Daily Prophet then. Mungo shrugged. The Daily Prophet must be running out of news if it made a headline that two celebrities managed to bump into each other. If that was the trash the Daily Prophet produced, Mungo wondered what Muggles had in their newspaper.

"Muggles, aren't they?" A man's voice said softly. Mungo ignored it and went on to the entrance.

His parents dropped by shortly, and they proceeded on their business. Mungo persuaded Mr. And Mrs. Gorsson to let him, buy twice the needed amount of potion ingredients, plus a few that weren't on the list. He labeled Mr. Ollivander as creepy to the nth degree when he bought his wand, a sixteen-inch mahogany with a phoenix feather as its core.

At last, tired from their purchasing, they retired.


	3. Chapter Three: The Trip on the Chattanoo...

Chapter Three: The Trip on the Chattanooga Choochoo- Erm, I mean Hogwarts Express.

The Gorsson family woke up bright and early to get to King's Cross station. Mungo had packed all of his school supplies, except for his robes, which he put in a paper bag.

They got in their car, and parked it next to a blue Ford Anglia when they arrived at the station. They went to the platforms, and Mr. Gorsson started talking.

"All right. We need to get on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."

"How is there a-" Mungo started.

"Quiet boy. You just have to walk through the platform barrier. Just go ahead, Mungo, and don't get frightened. Close your eyes if need be." Mr. Gorsson said, and he gave Mungo a little shove toward the Platform. Mungo over balanced, and fell into the platform barrier. He landed with a painful smack on the ground, instead of hitting the hard brick. Mungo picked himself up, and dusted his front off. Suddenly behind him appeared his parents, and they knocked him to the ground again.

"Oh, blast, sorry Mungo." Mr. Gorsson said, helping Mungo up.

"Tha's okay, da'. We better goo an' find a seat, the train's leavin' soon!" Mungo gathered up his bags and headed to the train.

"Bye mum! Bye Da'!" he called over his shoulder.

"Bye Mungo!" they yelled back as a fleet of red-haired people came through the portal.

Mungo bustled into the train; heaving his suitcase so hard he thought he busted something. He rolled it along the train, looking for a semi-empty compartment. He finally found somewhere with only two people in it, two boys. One had a green badge with a serpent, and the other had a blue one with a bird of some sort. Both were glaring at each other with hatred.

"Erm, could I sit here? Every-" Mungo started, but the boy with the eagle badge said,

"Don't start with the 'everywhere else is full' gig. I know perfectly well there's plenty of other compartments that has a seat open." He then returned to glaring at the other boy.

"What, you noble Ravenclaws don't have a hospitable spirit? Sit down, make yourself at home." The boy with the green badge said with a sneer. Mungo sat down uncomfortably.

"You only said that to make me look bad, you'd have kicked him out before I did." The 'Ravenclaw' said.

"No, we Slytherins have an HONEST form of hospitality. Unlike certain scum who steal from my suitcase."

"I wasn't stealing, the suitcase popped open when it fell, and I was putting the stuff back in, and pausing a moment to admire your Sneakoscope."

"Which was going off-"

"Because I pulled a prank on a third-year when I was getting in."

"Well, only dishonest scum play pranks on third years."

"What about people who play pranks on first-years? What about that sticking charm you put on that seat?"

"Stickin' charm!?" Mungo interjected, being somewhat alarmed He tried to get up, but he was stuck to the seat.

Both the boys started laughing comradely.

"Oh, did you see the look on his face, Ben?" The Ravenclaw said, chuckling.

"Priceless, priceless." The Slytherin said, leaning on his friend.

"Undo the charm!" Mungo said angrily.

"What are you going to do? You don't know anything!" The Ravenclaw said.

"Ah, I knoo one thing," Mungo dug in his pockets with difficulty, and produced a vial of thick clear liquid.

"Take bubotuber pus!" Mungo said as he uncorked the bottle and flung the contents at the two boys. It landed on their faces and they shouted in shock as boils sprung up all over their faces. They ran out shrieking, leaving Mungo all by himself. Stuck to the seat.

The compartment door slid open and a lady with a cart poked her head in.

"Do you want something off of the cart, dear?" She asked.

"Na thanks," He said before he gave it any thought. A while later, he wasn't so sure. His stomach rumbled with hunger, but he was stuck to the seat and couldn't move anywhere.

He tried hopping a bit, but the people in the next compartment heard him and told him to stop practicing jumping jacks. He tried pulling himself up by hanging on to the luggage rack, but his arms were too short.

Suddenly something zoomed past his window. With an instinctive jerk, Mungo leaped up with a terrible ripping sound to stare out the window.

Outside, a blue Ford Anglia was swirling around- in midair. Mungo saw the door open, and out fell a boy, barely managing to catch onto the door handle.

"Stupid Potter and his publicity stunts." Mungo said. Then he noticed he was free from the seat, even though he had a gaping hole in his pants.

"Thank ye, Potter." Mungo whispered. He pulled on his school robes, no one would notice then. He looked outside the window again and saw that Potter wasn't there anymore.

"Blast, he fell." Mungo said. He sat on the seat again (not the one he had been on,) and thought on life. How sudden it must be, one minute flying over the landscape as happy as you could be, and then plummeting to your doom. Sad, really. Someone should tidy up the lines of Fate and so on.

Mungo's stomach growled, and he got up to find the trolley lady, but the train lurched and a disembodied voice called out:

"Hogsmeade Station, leave your bags, they will be taken separately."

Mungo got his wand and made sure that his possessions were in his bags, and then joined the teeming crowd in the corridor. Mungo arrived outside the train with a few more bruises than when he had gotten on, and then a thundering voice sounded behind him:

"Firs' years this way! Firs' years follow me!"

Mungo stood in shock for a minute, his face the mask of fear and, basically, too many things happening in one day. He was snapped out of it when he saw a horde of students come walking towards him, a mass of eleven-year-old flesh and bone. Mungo started and followed a giant hairy thing, which he presumed was the person that he was supposed to be following.

The big hairy thing, henceforth known as the BHT until we find out that he's really Hagrid, led him and Mungo and his fellow first-years to a fleet of small boats with lanterns in the prow. Mungo gulped.

"Inter the boats, inter the boats!" The BHT commanded. Mungo climbed clumsily into a boat, followed by several other children.

"Off we go." The BHT roared, and the boats sailed forward. Mungo immediately went into a depressive slump. He could just imagine hosts of cold, slimy fish staring up at the bottoms of the boats, with cold, glossy eyes, dead and without feeling. Mungo shuddered and curled into a little ball, thinking how much he hated life.

Then Hogwarts appeared in view. Mungo's eyes widened, awestruck. His depression left, and elation filled his being. He felt like it was his, he felt like… He felt like he had seen it every day of his life.

Then the castle disappeared behind some trees, and the depression returned. He sat like that until he noticed that the boat had stopped. They were in some kind of alcove, with stairs and huge doors at the top of them.

Mungo hustled with the rest of the first-years after the BHT, and he knocked on the doors with a huge fist. The doors opened, and revealed a tall, elderly woman with a thin face and tight bun.


	4. Chapter Four: The Hat Goes Mad!

Chapter Four: The Sorting Ceremony: The Hat Goes Mad!

"Is this all of them?" she asked the BHT. The BHT nodded the top of his hair.

"Yep, Professor McGonagall."

"Excellent. Come along." McGonagall gestured the first-years to follow them. Mungo swarmed with the rest, crowding into a small room.

"Now, you are about to be Sorted into your Houses. Your house is like your family. You must support it with honor. The worthy achievements will earn it points towards winning the House Cup at the end of the year. If you break any rules, you will lose points, and seriously endanger the loss of the House Cup to another House. I hope the lot of you will be of unquestionable merit to whatever House you join. Now, please follow me." McGonagall opened another door, and led the first-years to a huge hall, with four tables. The hall had a clear ceiling, showing the crescent moon.

As the first-years entered, the other students at the tables started talking amongst themselves.

"They look so small and squeaky-voiced,"

"Aww, look, that one's shaking."

Mungo ignored these statements, afraid that they were being directed at him. He held himself tall, and with as much dignity as he could muster.

McGonagall brought out a stool and an old hat, older than Mungo's. Mungo felt extreme distaste at its daring to be older than his great-great-great-great grandfather's hat.

A rip opened wide at the brim of the hat on the stool, and it started singing:

"I don't care who you are,

Where you're from, what you did,

As long as you love me!"

McGonagall quickly put her hand over the hat's rip silencing it. She smiled apologetically, and said,

"Dreadfully sorry, the Sorting Hat got in a mixup with the Muggle postal service, and spent a month in a New York post office, and hasn't been quite right in the… well, head, I suppose. I'm sure it will sort you correctly, however. Its nothing compared to that time it went to Chad…."

She coughed, and produced a long scroll.

"When I call your name, please be so kind as to place the Hat on your head, and it will decide where you shall be. Abendroth, Duncan!"

A small boy with blonde hair walked up to the stool nervously, and McGonagall placed the Hat on his head. It waited for a moment, and then yelled,

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Relieved, the boy took off the Hat and ran to the table on the far right, where he was enthusiastically cheered. Mungo scoffed, didn't take much brain to put on a Hat.

Then Mungo started getting worried. One girl spent an embarrassing ten minutes sitting on the stool before the Hat yelled out "RAVENCLAW!" What if he had the horrible thing on his own head for even longer?

Almost suddenly, it seemed, Professor McGonagall called for

"Gorsson, Mungo."

Mungo stepped nervously up to the stool, and stopped. He didn't want to take off his precious hat and put that beastly thing on his head.

"Remove your hat, Mr. Gorsson." Professor McGonagall commanded.

"But, ma'am, its me great-great-great-" Mungo started, but Professor McGonagall waved him off with a curt gesture.

"Take it off."

Mungo sighed, and took off his hat. It felt like he was removing his scalp.

Scowling, Mungo sat on the stool, and McGonagall placed the vile thing on his head.

"Don't like me, eh kid?" A small voice in his voice said in a harsh, New York's tone. "Think your hat's better, eh?"

"No, sir," Mungo whispered, but the Hat went on.

"Oh well, I guess I'd better Sort you. Let's see here, not exactly the brightest star in the sky, but you have a moderate amount of guts, kid… Your clever at certain things, yeah, yeah, lets get to the important stuff… I think Griffindor?"

Mungo shook his head. He didn't want to be in the same house as that Potter lad.

"Not Griffindor."

"Well, you ain't smart enough to go to Ravenclaw, so I think Slytherin." The Hat stated. It took a deep breath, as if to shout out the House, but Mungo whispered strongly in a sudden burst of intuition.

"I wan' t' goo to Hufflepuff!"

The Hat was taken aback.

"Are you sure kid? I mean Hufflepuffs ain't exactly the cream of the crop, y' know." The Hat said.

"I wan' t' goo t' Hufflepuff." Mungo repeated.

"Okay, okay, HUFFLEPUFF!"

Mungo flung off the Hat, which shrieked as it flew to through the air, jammed on his own hat and ran to the Hufflepuff table amidst gales of laughter. That's why no one heard a car zoom by the window.

Mungo sat down, wondering what would happen next.

He didn't have to wait long. The Sorting continued, on and on. Mungo was now really hungry, he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast all the way back in Diagon Alley.

Mungo stared at the staff table blankly, waiting. Mungo's stomach growled terribly.

The boy next to him, the blonde haired first-year, leaned towards him and asked.

"Are you half as hungry as I am?"

"No, I'm twice as hungry as ye are. I didn' eat anythin' since breakfast." Mungo replied.

"Davy Jones' Locker! What, did you get the trolley lady upset?" the boy asked.

"Na, I jus'… was asleep," Mungo replied. He didn't feel like telling of his embarrassing incident with the Sticking Charm yet.

"Pennisworth, George!"

The boy groaned.

"They're still only at the P's. Oh, my name is Duncan Abendroth, by the way. Now that you know me, please don't eat me." Duncan smiled, but Mungo didn't quite get it.

"What do ye mean, eat ye?" He asked.

"Well, you said you were twice as hungry as I was, and I figured you'd be hungry enough to eat a person, and…" Duncan trailed off uncomfortably.

Finally, Professor McGonagall finished Sorting "Zedekiah, Julian" and an old man with long white hair stood up.

"I see we have had a large number of new students this year. Therefore, a very long Sorting Ceremony. Though you are anxious to fill your mouths and stomachs, I merely want to tell you older students to keep a good eye for these newcomers, and help them with what you can. That is all." The man clapped his hands, and food appeared all over the plates and bowls on the table.

"FOOD!" Mungo yelled, shoving about fifteen different foods onto his plate at once.

"I say, you're going to get sick if you keep eating like that, er, Mungo." Duncan said, looking at all meal piled on Mungo's plate.

"I doon't care, I was ready t'eat th'table." Mungo said after he had gotten his current mouthful down.

"Well, suit yourself. Where are you from, anyway?" Duncan asked.

"Altnaharra. Its in th' Highlands." Mungo answered.

"Oh… I just live in Dover." Duncan turned his attention to his food again, and the conversation was stifled.

About halfway through the meal, Mungo felt fed enough to take up the chat again.

"Soo, are yer parents Muggles?" Mungo asked. He thought he was just being polite.

Duncan frowned, and shook his head.

"No, they're both Squibs. They were really happy when I got into Hogwarts, though, they were afraid I wouldn't be able to get in."

"Well tha's good. Me oon parents doon't remember me dooin' any magic themselves, they were beginnin' t'think I wasn' magical." Mungo said.

"Eh, how about that. Do you know Quidditch?" Duncan asked.

"No' really. I'm no' muckle fond-"

"What's that?" Duncan interrupted.

"What's what?" Mungo asked, confused.

"Muckle. Is that some form of Muggle?"

"Na, na, it means great or big. Or much. Anywee, I'm no' muckle fond of heights."

The meal passed, and the tables were cleared and students started filing out of the Hall. Mungo followed the majority of the Hufflepuff students, and was led through many broad corridors and some short passageways. Mungo had sunk into a stupor, and Duncan wasn't much better. They couldn't have resembled zombies more if they had been decaying and groaning.

Finally, they reached the top of a narrow, spindly tower. They could see nearly all of the grounds from it, but Mungo couldn't see where they were going.

A boy with a shiny badge walked up to a window and said,

"Ghost haunt."

The window shone a bright blue light, causing Mungo to pull the brim of his hat over his eyes. When the light faded, he pushed his hat back from his eyes and saw a long, small transparent tunnel. The prefect scrambled down into it on his stomach, and slid out of view. Mungo groaned, thinking of how full his belly felt..

"Don't worry, you can lie on your back too." A third year said to Mungo as he clambered in. Mungo rolled over accordingly, and seemed to shoot out over the castle grounds, whizzing over nothing. Then another tower loomed into view, with a small hole in one side. Mungo zoomed through it, and landed on a large mass of cushions.

"Welcome to the Hufflepuff common room." The prefect was saying. "The boys' dormitories are downstairs, the girls', upstairs."

Mungo and Duncan walked down the stairs mentioned, until they got to a door labeled "First Years." They went in, followed by three other boys.

They saw five four-poster beds, and their trunks sitting at the foot of them. Mungo was too tired to appreciate this, however, and fell on the bed like a falling tree, asleep before he had reached an angle of forty-five degrees


	5. Chapter Five: The Herbology Mistress

Chapter Five: The Herbology Mistress

The next morning, Mungo woke up, but not very fresh. As many of you female readers know, it is very uncomfortable to sleep in a ponytail, and even more uncomfortable dealing with it.

Mungo took out his brush, and stifled his yelps as he combed out the tangles. When he had finished, he went into the common room and started to read one of his books, _Magical Drafts and Potions._ Mungo paused to look at the cover and saw the name Arsenius Jigger.

"Hey, tha's me grandfather!" Mungo said excitedly. He started reading the book even more avidly for it. He started thinking on his heritage. One of his ancestor's had written one of the schoolbooks, who knows what other things they might have done!

Then Mungo remembered his hat. Shocked, he rushed to see if it was all right, and that he hadn't crushed it in his sleep.

To his immense relief, he saw the hat on the bed stand. Mungo had evidently thought enough to take it off before he crashed. Mungo picked it up, and gave a sharp exclamation. The feather, which before had been such a dull colour, had turned yellow, with black bars going across it.

"Shut up, Mungo, I'm trying to sleep." Duncan said drowsily. Mungo tiptoed out, his hat clutched in his hands.

Somehow, the feather had changed colour to match Mungo's Hogwarts House. Mungo looked about, and saw a box with badges. He looked into it, and stifled another cry of glee. It was full of Hufflepuff badges! Mungo took one, and pinned it to the front of his robes. As he did so, another badge replaced the one Mungo had taken. Mungo took that one too, and pinned it to his hat.

As more and more badges appeared, Mungo got wilder and wilder. He started impressing the badge's indentation on his books, and was trying to figure out how to affix a badge to his wand when Duncan got up.

"I say, what's with the mess?" Duncan asked, picking up a discarded badge.

"Well, erm, jus' decoratin'." Mungo answered uncomfortably.

"Hm. Oh well. We should probably go and eat breakfast." Duncan said. He looked at the badge, shrugged, and pinned it onto his chest.

"Aye, I'm starved." Mungo said, stuffing his wand into his pocket.

"How could you be starved? You ate about fifty pounds of food last night! You have enough food to last you a week!" Duncan said incredulously. Mungo smiled.

"High metabolism."

"No kidding," Duncan said, putting his hand on his head and moving it over to Mungo. It reached about his nose.

They both laughed, and exited the common room.

It took about half an hour to find the Great Hall. They had not been paying attention where they had been going when they were going to bed last night, so didn't know where to go. They followed some Hufflepuff girls for a bit, before they were asked why they were stalking them to the bathroom. Mungo and Duncan stopped following people after a while, and just went down any staircase they could find, sure that the Great Hall was on the ground floor.

It was tricky, though. The staircases moved, and Mungo and Duncan had to wait for the stairs to move back again before they could retrace their steps when they went the wrong way.

Finally, they found a corridor that seemed familiar from last night, and ran down it. They were only at the end when they realized that it was the hallway to the tower leading to the Hufflepuff common room.

"Gah! We need help." Mungo said, despairing.

"With what?" a voice said, coming down the stairs. It was the prefect who had opened the window last night. Mungo felt like throwing himself at the prefect's feet and kissing them.

"We're lost." Duncan said.

"How? You're barely three steps away from the way to the Hufflepuff common room." The prefect said, perturbed.

"He means we got lost, an' we managed t' git back here," Mungo explained. "We were tryin' t' find the Great Hall."

The prefect tried valiantly to hide a snicker, and said.

"Very well, I'll lead you there. But keep your wits about you, so I don't have to do it again."

When they arrived at the Great Hall, Mungo and Duncan sat at the far end of the table from the prefect.

"Snotty git." Duncan said. Mungo nodded, and turned his attention to his bacon.

Suddenly, a great whirring of wings came from overhead, and Mungo looked up, nearly snapping his neck.

Thousands of owls, white, brown, and yellow, were flying over the tables, dropping packages and letters, but mainly packages. Duncan gasped.

"Look! Look at that old dusty one!"

Mungo looked amongst the owls, but couldn't discern any individual owl from the midst.

"Where?" H asked.

"The one with the red envelope, it's got a Howler!"

"A Howler?" Mungo asked, curiously. "Who on earth could get a Howler this early in the term?"

"Oh, look, it landed on the Griffindor table!" Duncan said, pointing. Mungo looked, and soon an extremely loud woman's voice started roaring through the Hall:

"RONALD WEASLEY!"

"Now we know who its fer," Mungo said.

"I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED!"

"About what?" Mungo asked Duncan. He furrowed his brow, and said,

"Last night Potter and his friend, Weasley, flew to Hogwarts on a flying car. I thought they had gotten expelled, but I guess they hadn't."

"YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, AND ITS ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT!"

"Gosh, she's gooin' light on 'im, isn't she?" Mungo noted.

"IF YOU PUT ONE MORE TOE OUT OF LINE, WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!" The Howler screamed, then it said something quieter. Then a huge raspberry sounded, and then it was silent throughout the Hall.

"Well, tha' doosn't happen every dee." Mungo said, returning to his bacon.

The rest of the day was spent in a hectic haze. Going to their lessons, introductions to the teachers, it was all rather blurry. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a teeny little man, who only reached to Mungo's knee. However, he instantly earned their affection when he made his desk fly about the room, just missing the heads of the students when it got too close.

Prof. McGonagall, however, was a stern old lady. She started them off with a nice long lecture about how serious Transfiguration was, and mentioned that anyone fooling around would be dealt with harshly. She then told them to copy some rather complicated notes, and set them to work to try to transfigure a match into a needle. Mungo paired up with Duncan. They stared at the match together, and Mungo rolled up his robe sleeve and said, while waving his wand in a complicated fashion,

"Transformo facula acus!"

The match shimmered, and slimmed down to a point, forming a flawless needle.

"Wha', wha'," He said, speechless.

"Davy Jones' Locker!" Duncan breathed,

Professor McGonagall, seeing the commotion, came over and examined the needle. Her eyebrows raised about a sixteenth of an inch, and she said,

"Nicely done. Ten points to Hufflepuff."

Pleased with his success, Mungo watched the rest of his classmates. Most of them were looking enviously at his needle, but then they turned their attention to their own work.

"Er, mate, a bit of help." Duncan whispered. His match was twitching strangely, and flashing between brown and purple.

"You have t' put a wee bit o' a twirl at th' end, like this." Mungo waved his wand, including the twirl, and there was once again a perfect needle.

"You have a gift, chap." Duncan said, shaking his head.

The next class was being taught by Prof. Binns, the only professor that was a ghost. And, as a ghost, he had centuries to make his voice as boring and droning as possible. Within seconds, heavy thudding noises were heard throughout the classroom as heads hit the desks in sleep. Except for Duncan's, he seemed fascinated by the teacher and the subject. He kept prodding Mungo back to consciousness, a habit that got a bit annoying.

"Quit it!' Mungo said irritably after the third time.

"But don't you want to know how Bronze Age wizards lived?" Duncan asked, incredulous.

"I dunno," Mungo said indifferently, falling asleep again.

The sharp pains in his stomach waked Mungo up. He stood up straight and said,

"Lunchtime!" But the effort was wasted, as the bell rang just then.

The students flooded out of the classroom in droves, Mungo in the head. He paused outside the door, waiting for Duncan to catch up.

Duncan was looking rather miffed.

"It wouldn't have hurt you to pay a bit of attention. It's a fascinating subject, and dreadfully important to understand why we live the way we do." He told Mungo in a rushed, angry voice.

"It's na the subject, its jus' the teacher. I… alwees fall asleep when ghoosts talk." Mungo said, thinking quickly.

"Oh, all right then. Lets go nab some grub." Duncan said, mollified. They followed the mainstream of students to the Great Hall, telling each other certain features that should be noted.

After lunch was Herbology. Mungo and Duncan knew it look place in a greenhouse, so they headed outside, and looked about. The greenhouses weren't in sight. They walked about for a bit, until they ended up by the lake.

"How could we get lost outside?" Duncan asked angrily, throwing a stone into the water.

"Tha' was kind o' stupid t'say, Duncan. People usually get lost out doors." Mungo pointed out.

"I know. I suppose we'd better get back where we started." Duncan said. They walked until they got back to the entrance of the castle, where they saw a couple of prefects talking.

"Excuse me, but do you know where we could find the greenhouses?" Duncan asked.

One of the prefects muttered something about first-years wasting time, but he was elbowed and the Ravenclaw prefect said,

"Yes, you go left along the base of the castle. You better hurry, class is starting soon."

Mungo and Duncan ran in the direction indicated, and came up in front of a large series of greenhouses.

"Which one do we goo to?" Mungo asked.

"Let's try the first one," Duncan suggested.

They opened the door, and a smiling, rather squat witch in green robes greeted them.

"Ah! Come in, come in, we almost started without you."

Mungo and Duncan sat in front of a potted plant, which leaves were purple and trembling slightly.

"Today, we're just going to prune German Werebane. What does it do, Mr. Gorsson?" Prof. Sprout asked Mungo unexpectedly.

Mungo started. He really had no idea, if only it was used in potions.

"I doon't knoo, ma'am." Mungo said.

Several students laughed, and Mungo hid as well as he could behind his plant. Duncan patted him sympathetically on the back.

"All right then. German Werebane can be used in various venoms used in ancient times to kill werewolves, but in present times its used as a pesticide when the leaves are boiled with the roots. Now, for this lesson, I merely want you to snip the green bits off the leaves. Try to be careful not to cut the purple parts, it'll ruin the plant." Prof. Sprout said, handing out a large pile of gardening shears to the students.

Mungo carefully maneuvered his shears, but right as he was about to make a cut, his arm twitched and he snipped off half of the whole leaf.

"Oh, Mr. Gorsson! Clumsy, clumsy!" Prof. Sprout said, extremely distressed. She snatched the pot away from him, as though she was afraid he would cut it into pieces.

"That will be enough from you today, Mr. Gorsson. Go wait outside and think about what you have done.

Mungo got up and went outside. He sat on the grass and thought. It was just a clumsy mistake, why'd she go off like that?

A while afterward, the class filtered out. Mungo got up when Duncan arrived, and they walked back up to the castle.

"Oh, Prof. Sprout told me you got some homework." Duncan said as they walked to the Great Hall.

"What? But its oonly me first dee!" Mungo said, aghast.

"Its nothing much, just a little bit on how to properly take care of German Werebane." Duncan explained.

Mungo began to feel like this was going to be a bit harder than he had thought.

Author's note: Whoo, long chapter. It seems so disproportionate and all… Oh well, maybe the later one's will staighten out.


	6. Chapter Six: The One o' Clock Clash

Chapter Six: The One o' Clock Clash 

Mungo went through the next few weeks as best as he could. He started to loathe every Herbology lesson, and every Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. He hated Herbology because he managed to get something horribly wrong, to the point to where he was reduced to just watch Duncan work. And Defense Against the Dark Arts was worse. Prof. Lockhart had started with a long introduction with titles and phrases, but always rounded off with some kind of lame remark that brought giggles from some of the girls but looks of exasperation from everyone else. Not only that, but his lessons were worthless, merely dramatizations of some of his grand accomplishments.

The highlights of Mungo's week became Potions and Transfiguration. Though Prof. Snape was perfectly detestable, Mungo looked up to him for his expertise in potion making, and at least Snape didn't say anything bad about his work, even if he said nothing good. Mungo was also getting extra tutoring from Professor McGonagall, as she had seen his budding talent with Transfiguration.

Then one day a note appeared on the Hufflepuff notice board, detailing flying lessons. The whole common room was full of talk about flying, from first-years talking amongst themselves about the time they had pulled off some stunt on their close relatives' brooms. Even Duncan, who was becoming more secluded and scholarly by the day, told Mungo of the time when he had taken his father's broom for a fly at the Quidditch Cup.

"I hope this flyin' is all its hyped oop t'be." Mungo said as they were finally on the way to their flying lessons.

The first years clustered in a large, grassy area, where some brooms were arranged in a circle. In the center of the circle was a rather intimidating woman with grey hair and yellow eyes.

"Stand by a broom, all of you. Quickly, while you're young." She barked, pointing to the brooms. Mungo stood next to his. It looked dreadfully uncomfortable, all knotted and lumpy.

"I am Madam Hooch, and I am your flying instructor. We should be able to cover the basics of flying with today's lesson, unless some of you get hurt." Several students laughed, but then they saw that she wasn't kidding,

"Put your hand over your broom, and say, 'Up!'" Madam Hooch commanded.

Mungo put his hand over the broom, and said,

"Oop!"

The broom raised itself up, and swung heavily at Mungo's chest. It hit hard, knocking Mungo onto his back. Wheezing, Mungo tried to get up, but was hit again on the back, knocking him down again.

"Watch out, Mr. Gorsson!" Madam Hooch said, drawing out her wand. She twirled it, shouting,

"Reducto!"

A bright red light flew from her wand, smashing the broom into splinters.

"That has never happened before in all my life. All of you, go sit down over there, while I investigate the rest of the brooms." Madam Hooch ordered, and the students hastened to obey. Mungo, however, noticed two people watching from a window, laughing. He recognized them as the Slytherin and Ravenclaw who had stuck him to the seat, and they both had their wands out.

"Duncan!" Mungo said urgently, tugging on his sleeve. "Jest glance at the windoo o'er there."

Duncan looked, and asked,

"What about it?"

"Those two boys, on th' train here, cast a Sticking Charm on th' seat, and stuck me to it. I splashed them with a wee bit of bubotuber pus, and I suppose they've wanted t' get revenge."

"It would help if we knew their names," Duncan said, glancing again at the window.

"No kiddin'," Mungo said. Madam Hooch came over in that moment.

"I've examined the rest of the brooms, and they don't appear to be hexed like Mr. Gorsson's. You may go back up into the castle, Mr. Gorsson." Madam Hooch said. Mungo complied, and went inside.

Waiting for him were the two boys.

"These first years are so weak. They can get beaten up by a broomstick." The Slytherin laughed.

"I heard ye got a roarin' applause from the girls from yer houses, ye came back from the holidees lookin' soo much better. Must ha' dazzled them." Mungo snapped. He knew it was stupid, trying to take on two fifth-years, maybe even older.

"Well, at least we didn't have to go to school with a gaping hole in our pants." The Ravenclaw retorted.

"Ye've goot a warse hole on yer face. Oh, wait, tha's yer mouth." Mungo said, pushing past them. Mungo heard a wand being drawn, and quickly turned around, yelling,

"Scipio transformo regula!"

The Slytherin's wand shimmered, and turned into a metallic ruler. He gaped, and then ran off. The Ravenclaw scowled, but didn't draw his wand.

"Ye might want t' tell yer friend t' take tha' wand t' Professor McGonagall. Tell him t' send her me compliments," Mungo said, walking off. His blood was boiling, he was just waiting for the Ravenclaw to draw his wand, but he got away without injury.

Mungo suddenly remembered something. He had never learned that spell. HE never remembered there even being a spell that did that.

Mungo headed to the Hufflepuff common room, and grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill. Sitting at one of the tables, Mungo started writing a letter.

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_Things are wonderful here at Hogwarts. I'm getting extra tutoring in Transfiguration, and am doing extremely well in Potions. My Herbology marks could be better, but they're not dying. Not like the plants_

Here Mungo stopped, and frantically scratched out the last bit.

_Anyway. I just wanted to learn a bit about my ancestors. I know my grandfather wrote Magical Drafts and Potions, and I seem to be inheriting some degree of talent in Potions. However, today I did a transfiguration spell I didn't learn, and didn't even know existed. _

_Please send a reply that might explain this, I'm rather confused._

_Love,_

_Mungo._

Mungo sealed up the letter with a bit of wax, and headed out to find the Owlery.

He really had no idea where it was, and wandered about aimlessly until he met some older students coming from the Charms classroom.

"Excuse me, but could one o' ye tell me where t' find th' Owlery?"

"You go along the fourth floor landing, until you see a white door. That will lead up to the Owlery." One of them said.

"Thank ye," Mungo said, walking in the direction indicated.

At last he got to the Owlery, a large room with hundreds of owls. Mungo found a nice brown one and tied the letter to its leg.

As Mungo watched it fly off, he couldn't possibly imagine what this act would entail for his future.


	7. Shapter Seven: Halloween

Chapter Seven: Halloween

Mungo waited in expectation for a long time for his letter's return, but after several weeks it still didn't arrive. October drew closer, and then before Mungo knew it they were halfway through. Hagrid's pumpkins grew bigger, bats started flying from the trees at night,. And Mungo pulled off the best Herbology lesson he had ever had, he managed to not only save the plant from dying from a bad cut, but it managed to survive long enough to show it to Professor Sprout.

Halloween drew closer, and all Mungo was looking forward to the feast that entailed.

However, one day when Mungo was going to potions, a blonde-haired Slytherin second-year came into his path. This wouldn't have stopped Mungo, but with the addition of two other second-years that were just as tall as Mungo, and much wider, they fairly blocked up the corridor.

"Excuse me." Mungo tried.

"I bet you think you're pretty clever, transforming Erebus' wand like that. Clever Hufflepuff, that's new." The blonde boy said.

"Hur hur, that's funny Malfoy." One of the big ones said, chuckling like a bubbling vat of oil.

"A fat lot more than ye can do. Now, excuse me, I have t' get t' class." Mungo said. He knew that he couldn't take on three second-years, even if two of them looked like they couldn't spell their own names.

"I'll show you what I can do!" Malfoy said furiously, drawing his wand. Mungo quickly drew his wand as well, not having a clue what to do.

"Leave it," a voice said behind Mungo. He turned around and saw Professor Snape.

"Put your wands back into your pockets. Mr. Gorsson, you're needed in Potions, I believe." Professor Snape commanded.

"Aye, sir." Mungo said, putting his wand back in his pocket.

"Mr. Malfoy, I do not want you attacking students in the halls. Think of your reputation." Snape said, turning to Malfoy.

"But, sir, he attacked me-" Malfoy started. Professor Snape raised his hand, stopping Malfoy.

"Your reputation." Professor Snape repeated, and then took off toward the dungeons, Mungo trailing in his wake.

He couldn't believe his good fortune. He had heard that Snape had favored a boy named Malfoy, and let him get away with everything. Yet he had just put Malfoy down. What was up with that?

Mungo went through his potions lesson with that constantly on his mind. When the bell rang, Professor Snape said,

"I would like Mr. Gorsson to stay here behind the rest of the class."

As the rest of the class filed out, Mungo sat in his seat in trepidation.

Professor Snape sat at his desk in the classroom, and looked at Mungo with his black eyes.

"I suppose you are aware that you are doing exceedingly well in your Potions marks?" Professor Snape asked after an uncomfortable pause.

"Yes, sir." Mungo answered.

"And are you aware that your own grand-father was the author of _Magical Drafts and Potions_?"

"Yes, sir." Mungo said, wondering where this was going.

"Expectedly. But are you aware that Arsenus Jigger was also the Potions master at this school? The same position I hold now?"

"No sir." Mungo replied, surprised.

"And, judging from the amount of talent you have showed so far, you have inherited no small amount of your character from him." Professor Snape continued.

"What's yer point?" Mungo asked, curiosity overwhelming him.

"My point is, he was a Slytherin." Professor Snape said, starting to get impatient. "And you would have to be a fool not to see that you would be able to accomplish great things in Slytherin. I am asking you to transfer."

Mungo looked at Professor Snape incredulously. Of course Mungo did not want to vanish into antiquity, and he wanted to go as hgh as he could. Slytherin would certainly help him with that.

Mungo looked at the badge on his chest. The light just caught it to make the gold shine, the badger lost in the golden shine.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I belong to Hufflepuff."

Professor Snape nodded, and pointed at the door. Taking the hint, Mungo left, taking his things.

Halloween arrived sooner than was expected. Mungo arrived before everyone else, and ate more heartily. Duncan had to drag him away from the Hall to prevent Mungo from over-eating.

Mungo and Duncan walked through the corridors, looking at the statues and wondering whom they represented.

A red-haired Griffindor girl came into view. Mungo waved politely and said,

"Good evenin'."

But the girl just walked past them, looking ahead and not saying a word.

"That's strange." Duncan commented, but they moved on.

They were nearing the second floor, when Mungo smelled something reminiscent of a sewer line. He turned around, and heard a faint hissing sound.

"Duncan… I think there's something behind us." Mungo said.

He turned around to look too, and they saw a huge serpentine head come out of the doorway of the first floor landing. It looked around, and Mungo realized what it was.

"It's a basilisk! Doon't look it in th' eye, an' run!" Mungo shouted, running up the stairs to the second floor. Duncan followed close behind, panting with fear. They heard an angry hiss and a large scaly body going up the stairway.

"Run faster!" Mungo shouted, putting on a spurt of speed. They saw the charms classroom door, and ran inside, slamming the door after Duncan.

"What in blazing-" Duncan started, but Mungo shushed him urgently and put his ear to the door. He could hear the basilisk sliding past the door, and a startled yowl.

"Mrs. Norris!" Duncan said. Regardless of Mrs. Norris' connection with Filch, Duncan was very fond of cats, and, unlike most students, it was his ambition not to kick Mrs. Norris, but to make her purr.

Duncan ran to the door, but Mungo pushed him back.

"No, Duncan! The basilisk is still there!" Mungo whispered frantically. Duncan calmed down and waited.

After a fairly short while, Mungo heard footsteps racing up the corridor, and he opened the door a bit to look. He saw Potter, Weasley, and Granger all running down the corridor. And then they stopped, staring at something on the wall.

Mungo heard another noise, hundreds of happy, well-fed voices and footsteps on the stairs. A great mass of students came around the corner, and walked down the hall towards Potter and his friends. Then the great mass of students stopped too.

"Coom on!" Mungo said, leaving the classroom. Duncan followed.

They managed to squeeze their way to the front, and saw the horrible sight there. Tied to a torch bracket by her tail was Mrs. Norris, and written above her in giant red letters were the words:

**THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED**

**ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE**

"Davy Jones' Locker," Duncan breathed. 

"Ye have goot t' tell me what that means some day," Mungo whispered.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!" Malfoy's voice rang out.

Mungo, infuriated by the vile worm, drew out his wand, but Duncan restrained his hand.

"Out of my way, out of my way!" Filch's voice came from behind the group. Filch came into view, students moving aside for him to pass. He stared at Mrs. Norris for a moment, and then rounded on Potter.

"You've…. Murdered my cat." Filch said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll kill ya!" Filch grabbed Potter by the front of his shirt. "I"LL ILL YA!"

"It was a basilisk!" Mungo shouted, but another voice drowned his own out.

"ARGUS!" Professor Dumbledore came into view. He looked at Mrs. Norris closely, and said,

"Prefects, please escort your houses to their dormitories. Everyone should go to bed. Except," Professor Dumbledore gestured to Potter, Weasley, and Granger. "You three."

"Come on, Mungo. They wouldn't believe us if we told them it was a basilisk anyway." Duncan said, leading Mungo away.

"A basilisk in Hogwarts…" Mungo breathed.


	8. Chapter Eight: The Rogue Ravenclaw

Chapter Eight: The Rogue Ravenclaw

((Author's Note: I have started naming the chapters after the ones in the Chamber of Secrets, for Halloween was a turning point in Mungo's first year, and also the best part for the first and second books to meld, as after the incidents on Halloween, there is a Quidditch match.))

After the incident with Mrs. Norris, students went about the place in fear, Mungo and Duncan no exception, for they actually knew what had attacked the cat: a basilisk, one of the most feared animals in all the Wizarding world, capable of killing with their glare alone.

However, the news got out that Mrs. Norris had not been killed, merely Petrified. But Professor Sprout had a few plants that would restore her in time, so at least Duncan's worries were assuaged. But Mungo worried even more. He voiced his views to Duncan one day. Actually, it was a fairly important day, the day of the first Quidditch match of the term, but that had been pushed into the back of Mungo's mind.

"I doon't think we have a basilisk." Mungo said as they walked to the pitch.

"We saw it, didn't we? It looked enough like a basilisk to me." Duncan stated.

"I know, but they're supposed to kill, not just petrify when they look at you. Why wasn't Mrs. Norris killed?" Mungo said.

"Well, maybe their stare doesn't work on animals."

"I think it should, that's what gets them their prey."

"Yes, but if you were a giant, horrible, bloodthirsty snake, would you want your food warm or cold."

Mungo shuddered.

"Let's leave off this, its givin' me a headache. Who's playing?" Mungo asked.

"You have been preoccupied, haven't you? Its Griffindor versus Slytherin." Duncan said. They climbed up the stands, and sat down around the middle. Mungo had to lower his hat almost over his eyes to block out the sun.

"This is a pretty bad seat, Duncan." Mungo complained.

"Not compared to the ones on the other side of the pitch, you can see the smoke." Duncan said.

"Eh?" Mungo enquired.

"You know, the sun burning their necks…"

"Duncan. Its aboot fifty degrees."

"Yes, but that doesn't stop sunburn, does it?" Duncan said testily.

"Did you have a bad sunburnin' incident when ye were a wee chil'?" Mungo asked, smiling.

Duncan shuddered.

"Don't ask."

Mungo didn't press on, because just then someone poked him sharply on the neck with his or her finger.

"Managed to find your way onto the pitch, Gorsson?" a voice said.

Mungo turned around and looked into the face of the Ravenclaw.

"Maybe I should introduce myself, so you and your friend can forget it again. I am Arnold Morrigan-"

"And I am tired of seein' yer vile face." Mungo retorted, turning back to the game.

"You're going to pay, Gorsson. One day, you're going to bleed your life out, and I'll be there to see it." Morrigan hissed.

"Where did you grow up, a cemetery?" Duncan asked.

Morrgan turned to Duncan.

"You keep out of this."

"Why? Surely two Hufflepuff minds can't surpass one brilliant Ravenclaw sich as yerself." Mungo said.

Morrigan sneered.

"You think you're the only one who can do transfiguration, boy? Think fast. Oh, wait that's impossible for Hu-"

Right in the middle of Morrigan's sentence, he fell silent. A black-haired girl stood up and said,

"Talk faster." She said, and then exited the stands.

"Who was tha'?" Mungo asked.

"I dunno, looked like a third-year. But the Silencing Charm is fifth-year grade…" Duncan said.

"How do ye know?"

"Professor Binns said last Wednesday that the spell Silencio was invented in 1145 by Tacitus the Tactful, and is now taught here at Hogwarts in a student's fifth year." Duncan stated.

"Were ye quoting him exactly?" Mungo asked.

"Well, yes," Duncan said, but Mungo stood up and shouted,

"Potter's being chased by a Bludger!"

"Chased?" Duncan stood on his feet too. "Bludgers don't chase!"

"This one is." Mungo squinted.

"Ah! Potter's gooin' after th' Snitch! And… I'll be a ruddy Bundimun! Th' Slytherin Seeker's Malfoy!"

Mungo and Duncan watched in anticipation as Potter and Malfoy raced around the pitch, Harry trying desperately to avoid the Bludger. Suddenly, the two Seekers disappeared below the stands, the Bludger following after.

"I can't see! What's gooin' on?" Mungo asked.

"Little Potter's gone into a hole. My, isn't that exciting." Morrigan, whose voice had apparently returned, said.

Mungo turned around. He glared at Morrigan over his glasses.

"I have put oop with you in this box long enough. Ye have 'til three to git yerself oop and leave. One," Mungo drew out his wand. "Two," Mungo pointed it at Morrigan, "Th-"

"Mungo! Mungo! Malfoy just popped out! Ouch, he's going to be sore in the morning!" Duncan said. Mungo quickly turned back to the game, but he had missed it.

"Ye made me miss one o' the-" He started to say to Morrigan. But Morrigan had left.

Mungo sat down again. But he didn't sit for long, the seat gave in with an odd crumbling sound beneath him and he started falling down through the stands. He could feel the beams supporting the stands whiz past him; it was only a matter of time before he hit one.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" a voice above him cried out. Suddenly Mungo felt something tugging on his shoe, and he started flying upwards.

He came up to the level of his previous seat, and scrambled to get out from over the hole.

"Thank ye, Duncan."

"No problem. What happened?" Duncan asked.

Mungo examined the whole where his seat had been. It was lined with some kind of yellowish material. He touched it, and said,

"Butter. The slimy git turned me seat into butter."

Duncan touched the butter and tasted it. He made a face and said,

"Not butter. Margarine."

"Margarine." Mungo echoed. "Why didn' I jest pick another compartment on th'train?"

"Karma?" Duncan suggested.

"Eh? What's tha'?" Mungo asked.

"I don't really know. Saw a great big book about it in a Muggle bookstore. I think it has something to do with past lives and stuff."

"Oh, look, th' game's ended." Mungo said, changing the subject. "Ooh, Potter's arm looks bad. What's Lockhart dooin'?"

"Nothing good for Potter, I'll wager. Let's go back up to the castle before Lockhart explodes him or something." Duncan said. They exited the stands, and walked up the path to the castle.

"You're going to have to be careful, Mungo. Morrigan's probably going to look for more opportunities to make you're life horrible."

"I wonder if Morrigan is th' Heir o' Slytherin." Mungo mused. He had been fortunate enough to have a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_, so knew about the legend of the Chamber of Secrets and filled in almost every student in Hufflepuff.

Duncan shook his head.

"Morrigan's nasty, but he's in Ravenclaw."

"Well, me grandfather was in Slytherin." Mungo pointed out. Suddenly Duncan gave him a funny look.

"Oh, stop tha'. It dooesn't hardly mean anything, me mum was a Hufflepuff too, I think." Mungo said. Duncan nodded, but they arrived at the castle in silence.


	9. Chapter Nine: The Dueling Club

Chapter Nine: The Dueling Club

Later that night, Mungo became restless. He tossed and turned, having nightmares involving falling and large chunks of margarine.

Mungo got up out of his bed, and tiptoed out of the boys' dormitory. He went into the common room and looked at his potions homework. No, that was done. Mungo shifted some paper around and found his extra credit Transfiguration homework.

_Assignment: Read Chapter Three to Six in 'Dust to Dust: Forgotten Transfiguration Spells of the Sixteenth Century' by Cardea Blodeuwedd. _

_Prof. McGonagall_

Mungo shrugged and put the note in his pocket. He could go to the library to shake off his insomnia, and if he got into trouble with Filch he couldjust show the caretaker his assignment note.

Mungo threw on his cloak, put on his hat, and left the common room.

As he walked through the dark corridors, Mungo kept his ears keen to hear if anyone was coming. Passing by the third floor, he heard the sound of footsteps, and Mungo quickly crouched next to the base of a nearby statue, robes tucked around him and hat covering his face.

But it wasn't anyone important, just a small first-year with a bunch of grapes and a camera. Mungo pondered why a first-year would be wandering through the halls with a camera at night, let alone with a bunch of grapes. He shrugged, and moved on.

Mungo neared the library when he heard a scream coming from just down the corridor behind him. Panicked, Mungo ran into the library and hid behind the door. He heard a hissing sound, and he froze.

"Merlin's beard, th' basilisk!" He breathed. Then he held his breath in fear that the serpent might hear him.

There was the sound of someone falling, and then a curious clicking noise. The basilisk made an angry hissing noise, but then the hall fell silent.

Mungo poked his head out from behind the door, and didn't see any one. He cautiously lowered himself to the ground, and crawled along the wall of the corridor, not ashamed that he was acting like a rat.

Suddenly Mungo came upon the victim. It was the boy who had passed Mungo earlier. An expression of fear was on his face, though the camera that he had in his hands hid most of the expression. Apparently, the boy had seen the basilisk, ran, and then, despairing of escaping the serpent, had tried to take a picture.

Mungo heard voices coming from the stairway at the end of the hallway. Gasping, he quickly ran back inside the library. He had the presence of mind to go to the shelves where the book he needed were kept, which fortuitously were in the back. After a long pause, Mungo set to finding his book, which was rather difficult since he didn't have a lantern or torch. He finally found it, a nice book with a green cover.

Mungo crept to the front doors of the library, and stuck his head out, making sure that the coast was clear. No one was there, so he quickly ducked out and hurried along the walls. He had to get back to the Hufflepuff common room before Filch started swooping around like a vengeful demon.

Mungo also started pondering again. The victim had not been killed either, to the best of his knowledge. But Mungo was sure that a basilisk was the culprit, and he had never known basilisks to just petrify. But then, he had never known basilisks at all. Maybe the basilisk was just a very old, very weak one that didn't have its full killing power.

Slightly reassured, Mungo arrived at the Hufflepuff common room, and sat in an armchair. He found that he didn't want to study any more, and went back to bed.

"If ye're noot tired at Hogwarts, a wee stroll at night will cure ye." Mungo muttered as he fell asleep.

The next morning, expectantly, the school was absolutely teeming over about last night's attack. Students went about the place in fear that they would be the next victims, walking in tight groups.

Mungo had filled Duncan in on what he knew, and he was flabbergasted, if I may use the term for one studying history as avidly as Duncan.

"We should tell the teachers about this. So what if they don't believe us?" Duncan said as he scribbled in his homework.

"Duncan, we can' risk it. Ye see, if we goo oop t'them and see, 'The attacker is a baslisk,' farst they'll want t'knoo how it got here, which we doon't knoo, and who released it, which we only have a slight guess."

"Whoever is the Heir of Slytherin?" Duncan asked.

"Aye. An' we have three guesses as to who tha' would be. Malfoy, what's-'is-name, Erebus, and Morrigan."

"Now, Mungo, be reasonable. Just because you have a grudge against them doesn't mean that one of them might be the Heir." Duncan said. He knitted his eyebrows together. "Do you think Hubert the Hungry or Ptolemy invented the Lunascope?"

"I dunno, but tha's noot the issue right noo. I've been dooin' some research, and Malfoy's and Erebus' families were in Slytherin for generations, and Morrigan is the first in his family to not in Slytherin." Mungo said.

"How'd you find that out?" Duncan asked.

"There are records in the library of the students tha' went there. Jest aboot the only family more Slytherinised than the Malfoys ended with one Tom Riddle, who was in th' school fifty years ago." Mungo explained.

Duncan shrugged.

"Oh well, I think they'll catch him soon,"

Mungo shook his head.

"Duncan. _They doon't have a clue who the Heir might be._"

Duncan sighed and leaned his chair against the wall.

"And our defender against the forces of evil has less brains than a bundimun."

Mungo nodded, and looked at his course schedule.

"Speaking of bundimuns, we have t' goo t' his class noo." Mungo groaned. They got their equipment (homework from other classes to do while Lockhart wasn't watching,) and headed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Prof. Lockhart was in an unusually buoyant mood for someone who lived in a castle where someone might be petrified at the least chance.

"Come in! Come in! I have a terrific idea on my mind; I'll just let you read my books while I set it up." Lockhart waved them into their seats, and strode triumphantly from the room.

"This is the best idea Hogwarts has had for years," Mungo and Duncan heard Lockhart mutter gleefully.

"Wonder what his great idea is?" Duncan asked as the class erupted in talk.

"Maybe he's resigning. Tha' would resoond in Hogwarts' annals forever."

Duncan chuckled, and they joined in the chat, occasionally dodging parchment aeroplanes and pens and notebooks and things.

After their morning's lessons, they went down to the Great Hall for lunch. There was a large crowd of students gathered around the notice board, all very excited about something.

"Stee here, I can git through easier." Mungo told Duncan, and forged through the crowd. Since he was so skinny and tall, he managed to get to the front in good time.

There was a long sheet of paper with lines for signatures. Mungo read the top.

DUELING CLUB 

_**DEFEAT THE DARKNESS!**_

_**DEFEAT THE FEAR!**_

_**BECOME THE WAND-WIELDER OF LEGEND!**_

Mungo managed to squirm his way back outside the group back to Duncan, hat slightly askew.

"They've started a dueling club of some sort." Mungo said, setting his hat straight.

"Well, why didn't you sign up while you were in there?" Duncan asked.

"Well, I jes' thought it seemed a little loud. It said trash like defeatin' darkness and becomin' a somethin' of legend." Mungo explained. In reality, Mungo was thinking he had been stupid, not signing up when he had gone through all the trouble to get there.

"Well, we can have a closer look when the crowd's dispersed." Duncan rationalized.

So they waited, standing in the hall while the crowd ebbed and flowed, like a mass of fruit flies on some kind of food.

Finally Mungo's stomach gave a forceful reminder of how hungry Mungo was, and he said,

"Look, Duncan, I have to goo an' eat lunch, I'll sign up later." Mungo said, making anxious signs to go.

"All right, I'll catch up." Duncan said, absentmindedly watching the crowd.

Inspiration struck.

"Or ye could jes' sign me up." Mungo suggested.

Duncan raised an eyebrow, but didn't stop looking at the notice board.

"Okay, Mungo."

Mungo dashed off to the Great Hall, and he had never felt so grateful to Duncan in his life.

The next day the first meeting of the Dueling Club met. Mungo and Duncan were some of the first in the Great Hall to participate. They crowded around a raised platform, which was ornately detailed with moons and stars and things. Mungo looked around excitedly, looking for the person who would be teaching them. But Mungo couldn't see him.

"I wonder who's in charge o' this?" Mungo asked Duncan.

"I heard that Flitwick dueled a few times. But I think it's bosh. More likely we'll get Snape, or Professor McGonagall. "

Mungo looked around again, and saw Snape.

"Hey, Snape's over there." Mungo had a sudden childish urge to wave, but he resisted.

"And bundimun's over there…" Duncan said, depressed.

"What!" Mungo whipped his head back around. Striding cheerfully up to the stage, with the smile that could encompass all of his class, was Professor Lockhart.

"Oh no… We're not going to learn anything here. We might as well clear off." Mungo said, turning away.

"But what if Snape does something to him?" Duncan asked.

An image of Snape apologizing sneeringly to a mushroom appeared in Mungo's head.

"I'll stay." Mungo said decisively.

Lockhart started talking, but for some reason Mungo couldn't hear him.

"What, I'm sorry, I can't hear ye," Mungo said, but then his hearing returned and Lockhart was saying,

"Excellent. In light of the dark events of recent weeks, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Dueling Club, to train yourselves up, in case you ever have to defend yourselves, as I have done on countless occasions- for full details, see my published works." Lockhart swept his violet cloak from his shoulders, and it flew through the air. It landed with a soft swish over Mungo's head.

With shrieks of joy, several girls grabbed and clutched at him, to gain possession of Lockhart's cape. Mungo struggled to free himself, and fought out of the tangles with a vehement "Good riddance."

He looked back onto the stage to see that Snape had gotten on, and that Lockhart and the Potions Master had gone to other sides of the stage. They were holding their wands in very odd poses.

"As you can see, we have our wands in the accepted combative position."

"Accepted by who?" Duncan asked incredulously.

"Oh, d'ye kow more than they?" Mungo asked.

"I know more then Bundimun. Snape's the only one who's doing it correctly." Duncan answered.

Lockhart was now counting.

"One, two, three." Lockhart then smile in a friendly manner.

Almost immediately, Snape swirled his wand and said,

"Expelliarmus!" A bright beam of light flew from his wand, hit Lockhart, and flung him into the wall opposite.

"YES!" Duncan and Mungo cheered. The girls behind them threw the them dirty looks, but the two boys were enjoying themselves to notice.

Lockhart began raising himself up unsteadily, and dusted himself off.

"Ah, yes, that was a Disarming Spell. As you can see, I've lost my wand." A hand raised from the crowd, holding his wand.

"Ah, thank you Miss Granger. Yes, it was an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but, if you don't mind me saying so, it was pretty obvious what you were going to do. If I had wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy."

"Git…" Mungo muttered darkly. "The oonly things he can block are intelligent thoughts."

"Perhaps it would be prudent if we first teach them to _block_ unfriendly spells, Professor." Snape said with a steely ring to his voice. Lockhart was clearly discomfited.

"Yes, excellent idea, Professor Snape. Let's have a volunteer pair. Potter, Weasley, how about you?"

Potter made his way eagerly to one side of the stage, but Snape interjected.

"Weasley's wand causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending Potter to the Hospital Wing in a matchbox. Might I suggest someone from my own house? Malfoy, perhaps?" Snape said. Without waiting for Lockhart's consent, he made a curt gesture, and Malfoy climbed up onto the stage.

"I'm rooting for Potter." Mungo said determinedly.

They both walked to the center of the stage. Of course, Lockhart forgot about teaching anyone anything, and merely gave Potter a pat on the shoulder.

Potter and Malfoy saluted, and Malfoy said,

"Scared, Potter?"

"You wish." Pottter answered. Mungo groaned.

"Wasted a perfect opportunity to say something really stingin'." Mungo muttered.

By now they had gotten to their positions, and had their arms raised like Snape had.

Lockhart started speaking,

"Wands at the ready! When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm-only to disarm. We don't want any accidents."

"Says who?" Mungo whispered. Duncan chuckled.

"One, two-" Lockhart started counting, but Malfoy shouted before he was done,

"Tarantellegra!" A blast of white light hit Potter and sent him flying to the ground. Potter sportingly got up again and shouted

"Rictusempra!" The spell hit Malfoy in the gut, and send him flying end over end at Snape's feet. Snape showed no compassion, and sent Malfoy forward again.

Lockhart was really distressed by now.

"I said disarm only!"

Malfoy ignored him and flourished his wand again.

"Serpensortia!" He said. A flash of green light flared, and a thick, black cobra suddenly appeared. It started slithering towards Potter, hissing at the students clustered around the stage. Mungo and Duncan backed off, watching the snake nervously.

"I doon't think tha's in the schoolbooks…" Mungo said nervously.

Snape advanced.

"Don't move, Potter. I'll get rid of it for you." Snape said, raising his wand.

"Allow me!" Lockhart said, coming forward. He waved his wand at the snake, but it just flew high into the air, and landed with a plop back onto the stage, angrier than ever. It looked about, and saw a terrified second-year.

"He's a Hufflepuff!" Mungo said. McGonagall's words hit his mind.

"You house is like your family."

Mungo surged forward into the crowd, trying to reach the terrified Hufflepuff. But then Potter started doing something odd.

He started hissing and spitting, as if he was in a fit. The snake looked at him, and then coiled up, as docile as a rabbit.

Snape, with a shocked expression on his face, pointed his wand at the snake and said,

"Epara evanesca!"

The snake suddenly seemed to burn up, and disappeared in a thick cloud of black smoke. The Hufflepuff boy shouted something, and ran from the Hall. Everyone was stunned. Potter had spoken Parseltongue.


	10. Chapter Ten: The Ultimate Potion

Chapter Ten: The Ultimate Potion 

Mungo and Duncan came away from the Dueling Club with their core beliefs shattered into small pieces. The Boy-Who-Lived, Potter, who had defeated You-Know-Who, had displayed a Dark power.

The first thing that Mungo did in a spare moment was look up Potter's family in the archives, the same source he had read upon Malfoy's, Erebus', and Morrigan's family histories. Mungo came away assured.

"You know, I thought I was the researcher." Duncan pointed out when Mungo came back into the Common Room. "Why didn't I go?"

"Because I'm the main character and I deserve to know more than you."

((Author's note: Just fooling around. Here's the real script:

Mungo pondered.

"I really doon't know. But ye can do th' reseachin' from here on in. It hurts me eyes." Mungo replied.

"Okay." Duncan said, mollified. Then he remembered the main issue.

"Did you find anything on Potter?"

"Aye. Every single member of the Potter family that went to this school was in Gryffindor, with some fluctuations to Ravenclaw, and one Hufflepuff. But noot one single Slytherin." Mungo replied.

"But Potter spoke Parseltongue. Only really evil wizards have that ability, and only a few of them. And the basilisk is a giant snake, so Potter should be able to talk to it." Duncan pointed out.

Mungo thought some more.

"But why would Potter want to attack a cat and a first year, in his own house! It doosn't make sense."

Duncan fixed Mungo with a steely eye. Well, for all means and purposes it was MEANT to be a steely eye, but it looked more as if he got some kind of face contorting disease.

"Mungo. We need to tell a teacher. This is important." Duncan said seriously.

"WE CAN'T! Doon't ye think I haven't considered it!" Mungo shouted, snapping. Then he realized that the Hufflepuff common room was a very quiet place.

Mungo thought quickly.

"Doon't ye think I haven't considered writin' to me parents?" Mungo said. The rest of the room turned back to their own discussions about Potter, most centering on a chap called Justin.

Duncan nodded, understanding.

"Did you write to your parents?" Duncan asked.

"Noo, noot yet. I wrote t'them a while ago, but they haven't replied yet." Mungo said.

Duncan sighed, and put his head in his hands.

"It's just so hard… Knowing what we do, and not being able to tell anyone."

"I knoo, lad. I knoo." Mungo said.

"If only we could find out who's behind it. Who has power enough to control a basilisk and give it specific commands, and hates Muggle-borns?"

Mungo thought. But didn't think much.

"I've doon too much thinkin' todee, let's jes' goo t'sleep." Mungo groaned.

Mungo and Duncan walked past the other chatting Hufflepuffs, and every other word seemed to be "Potter", "Parseltongue," or "Chamber."

Mungo and Duncan spent the next few weeks keeping as far away from the areas that had been attacked by the basilisk as possible. So far, they knew that it only Petrified, but neither of them wanted to be Petrified if they could help it.

"I wonder if they'll remember that the basilisk attacked them." Duncan mused as they headed for Herbology one day, somewhere in November.

"More importantly, they might remember who was in charge of the basilisk." Mungo replied.

They approached the greenhouses, and Mungo felt a cold, numbness that usually filled him when a: eating fish, b: going over water, and c: going to Herbology. Mungo wondered dully what kind of plant he would watch Duncan take care of today.

When they entered, Professor Sprout put herself at the furthest end of the table. The last time Mungo had asked Duncan if he could have a go, the plant combusted, staining several people nearby with an acrid black smoke.

"Sit down, over there, dears." Professor Sprout said agitatedly.

After the lesson, which turned out to be about the properties of various kinds of fertilizer, to Mungo's chagrin, Professor Sprout turned them outside. However, when Mungo exited, she laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll need you for a moment, Mr. Gorsson." She said.

After the rest of the class had gone out, she handed him a sheaf of parchment.

"You realize that you are currently banned from touching any plants in these greenhouses?" Professor Sprout said bluntly.

"Yes…" Mungo sighed. She hadn't officially said so, but Mungo knew he was.

"And that if you continue at this rate, you will fail in the class of your own house?"

"Yes, ma'am." Actually, Mungo had never though of it as the class of Hufflepuff House. New revelation.

"Well, I know you don't have any talent in Herbology. It's a block. However, as Head of your house, I can't help but feel sorry for you. Therefore, I'm going to give you a chance to get outside credit for Herbology, for services to the teacher."

"Really, ma'am?"

"Yes. As you must know, I have to make a Mandrake Restorative Draught. Professor Snape has agreed, thankfully, to do most of the Potions making. However, he is extremely over tasked, with being a teacher, Potions Master, and Head of his House. Therefore, he has no time to do a time-taking part of the potion. He once remarked that you were fairly well-off in Potions, which from him is a glowing tribute. So I decided to ask you." Professor Sprout started, and said, "Excuse me." She quickly hurried off to tend to a plant that had suddenly started shooting seeds into the air.

Mungo was overjoyed. He was going to get to do something he really enjoyed, and for a good cause, and for full credit in Herbology. It seemed too good to be true.

Then Mungo looked at the papers he had in his hands. The first page alone was solely on how to prepare the cauldron!

He shuffled through the papers. Every sheet was written on both sides, with complicated instructions on every single stage of the potion!

"Professor Sprout!" Mungo said, aghast.

"Eh? What?" She said. She came away from the plant, which was apparently appeased in whatever odd need it required.

"I doon't think I can do this! Some o' th' ingredients aren't even in the students cupboard! Let aloon in the first-years'!" Mungo said, hardly believing the complicatedness of the Restorative Draught. "And I have t' keep th' potion at a precise temperature for three whole days!"

"That's easy enough to do, with a proper Inflammatory Charm." Professor Sprout stated. "Besides, I'm sure you will do fine. Professor Snape practically said you were a genius."

"But-" Mungo protested, but Professor Sprout raised her hand.

"Mr. Gorsson. The school will refund you for whatever ingredients you will need to acquire. You _will _find most of them in the students cupboards, and Snape has agreed to let you have access to all of them, even above your year."

Mungo was stunned. The notion of being able to use anything from the student's cabinet, even the seventh-years, was to Mungo as if he had received fifty genie lamps.

"Okee…" Mungo breathed.

"I'm sure you have the patience and knowledge to do this. Remember, those poor children in the Hospital Wing will be relying on you." Professor Sprout said kindly, showing Mungo out the door.

Mungo stood outside, wondering how he could have felt so awful coming to Herbology that day. Life was smiling on him indeed…

Mungo came back up to the school barely in time for Charms. They were reviewing the Wingardium Leviosa charm again, as most of the class was still having difficulties in grasping it, with the sole exception of Duncan.

After the classes and dinner, Mungo told Duncan his good fortune at being chosen to do this. Duncan was shocked.

"Davey Jones' Locker! Do you realize how long this is going to take to make?" Duncan shuffled through the papers, scanning them. He finally set the papers down.

"It will take two months, if you devoted every ounce of your waking time to brewing it. And you've got classes and everything!"

"I'll find a way. I might spend less time eating, or take me food with me when I goo t' work on it."

"But you have to get the root of a Romanian Longhorn dragon horn! The whole ones are Class B Non-Tradable Material!"

"No, it says base of the Erumpent horn, right here, see?" Mungo pointed out with his finger.

Duncan shook his head. He absentmindedly stooped and picked up some other student's cat that he had befriended.

"Professor Sprout's gone mad, anyway." Duncan said darkly as he tickled the cat's ears.

"Well, tha's a nice thing to see aboot th' Head of yer House." Mungo replied. "And ye took more of those ginger cookie-things she gave oot than anyone, remember, when th' Hufflepuff team beat Ravenclaw."

"I did not! It just looked like more because… They were smaller!" Duncan protested.

Mungo grinned. He had diverted Duncan's attention from pestering him about the potion.

"Aye. Well, I need t'goo an' get the ingredients, an' get started." Mungo said. Before Duncan could divest himself of the cat, who had fallen asleep and was kneading his robes, Mungo walked to the tunnel and went soaring out of sight.

Mungo walked through the castle, when he suddenly realized that it was getting dark.

"Well, I can't goo back noo. Snape's probably still aweek. I hope." Mungo said to himself. He saw a torch set in the wall down the hallway. Mungo walked over to it and set his hand on it.

"Well, well, well, what do you think YOU'RE doing?" Filch's voice said. A firm hand grasped Mungo's collar and turned him forcibly about.

"Mr. Gorsson, I presume?" Filch said nastily. "Walkin' about at night, are you?"

"Noo, sir, it was light when I went oot-"

"Silence! It's night now anyway."

"I was gooin' t' Professor Snape," Mungo protested, but Filch hauled Mungo away.

"Quiet! Lord, I wish flogging was still legal…"

Filch dragged Mungo through the corridors to his office. There were a wide variety of different unpleasant, pain-inducing instruments.

"That scourge there was my father's." Filch said nastily. "Must have flogged about a hundred students before he retired."

Mungo gulped, and Filch forced him into a moth-eaten chair. Filch circled around to his desk, and took out a sheet of paper and a quill.

"Mungo… Gorsson… Sneaking out of bed…"

"I wasn't sneaking, or you would never ha' seen me!" Mungo protested. Then he realized that he had said the wrong words. Filch looked up at Mungo with a malicious smile.

"So, you've been out before, eh? When?" Filch asked sharply.

Mungo had to think quick, but he couldn't. His brain froze.

"Err…" Mungo started, but there was a knock on Filch's door.

"Who is it?" Filch asked. There was a weird squelching sound, and then the high-pitched cackling of Peeves.

"PEEVES!" Filch roared. He leapt right over the desk and ran out the door before Mungo could even turn around to look out the door.

Mungo heard a loud crashing, and the longest stream of swearing that Mungo had ever heard. He ran to the door, and saw Filch lying on the floor, getting awful boils all over.

"He spilled bubotuber pus all over the floor! Hours of cleaning!" Filch explained. He tried to get up, but he slipped again. Mungo suddenly felt a surge of pity for the caretaker, who was covered in large, painful boils. Mungo held out his hand.

Filch looked at the hand in surprise, then with suspicion. He clasped it, and Mungo helped Filch to his feet.

"Well, get off to bed with you. I'll… I'll finish your report later." Filch said uncomfortably. He left Mungo and started walking off to the Hospital Wing, Peeves completely forgotten.

Mungo couldn't believe his good fortune. He had escaped detention, and didn't even have any points taken off. Plus, he could go on to Professor Snape.

Mungo corrected himself. He couldn't go see Professor Snape now, because the teacher was probably asleep. Mungo decided it would be best if he went back to bed.

Mungo arrived back in the Hufflepuff common room to see that Duncan had stayed up. Duncan looked at Mungo with a disapproving expression.

"Did you get the stuff?" Duncan asked.

"Noo, I was apprehended by Filch." Mungo said. "But I didn' get anything, Peeves distracted him and he sent me on me way."

"Well, you lucked out then." Duncan said. Mungo nodded, and headed up to bed.

The next day Mungo started to get down to the task of making the potion. It was not the main Mandrake Restorative, it was just a catalyst. But it was still very tricky.

Mungo went down to the dungeons to confront Snape about the complicated ingredients. Snape didn't remark about anything, and showed Mungo to his private cupboard. He only spoke one thing,

"Take only what you need. If you take any more, be assured I will know."

Mungo was rather affronted that Snape thought that he would steal anything, but kept silent while he gathered what he needed.

Throughout the rest of the day, Mungo ran up to the common room every time there was a break between classes. He added ingredients and tended the fire, making sure that it stayed at the right temperature. When Mungo didn't need to do that, he copied the instructions that he had gotten from Professor Sprout, in case he lost the original.

It was during one of these sessions, maybe three days after he started, that Mungo finally got the reply to his letter that he had sent all that time ago. The owl came to the window of the common room, instead of the Great Hall, for some reason. Perplexed, Mungo took the letter and sent the owl on its way.

Mungo could tell that the letter was a long one, as the envelope was very thick. It was sealed with wax, and looked very serious.

"Tha's odd," Mungo said as he opened the letter. He started reading, after sitting at a sofa.

_Dear Mungo,_

_We're all sorry that this letter took such a long time to reply to your letter. It involved quite a lot of research, and we even had to travel to America. The Muggle planes are quite miserable, we assure you. But that didn't daunt us._

_As you remember, you cast a spell that you did not know existed. We didn't know anything about it, so we wrote to several of our family, even Great-Uncle Herman, you know, the Muggle psychiatrist. And, surprisingly, only Great-Uncle Herman had an answer. He said you have a case of ancestral memory. He said that it is theorized amongst Muggle circles, that animals and humans sometimes inherit memories from their ancestors, and they call it ancestral memory. We all thought it was rot, but we looked up our family history anyway. Turns out that an ancestor of yours, on Bungo's side of the family, was a famous duelist who used Transfiguration as his main weapon. His name was Sir Frederick of Lochmaree. You might indeed have ancestral memory from him, and you may even have a weak portion from your grandfather, or your great-great-great-great-grandfather, who you got your hat from and also had great talent in potions. Ironically, Sir Frederick and William Aldridge (your great-great-great-great-grandfather) were bitter rivals._

_But we got a warning from Uncle Herman as well. He said that in Muggles, ancestral memory could lead to some kinds of brain disease, or even madness. He doesn't know what the risks might be with wizards, but he recommended that if you feel like you're having de ja vu about something you never did before, you should try to refrain. We think this would be a good suggestion._

_We wish you our best, and will send you something nice for Christmas, if you decide to stay during the holidays._

_Love,_

_Mom and Dad._

Mungo folded the letter, and stared at the stained glass window. Ancestral memory. This was… interesting.

What if his skill in potions WAS related to ancestral memory? Would he give up his ability, to avoid the risk of madness? And transfiguration… Would he have to give that up too?

Mungo suddenly heard the potion begin to sputter fitfully. Without thinking, Mungo adroitly added the proper ingredients, and stirred it until the bluish water calmed down.

And therein Mungo had his answer. He would not suppress his talents. Petrified students in the Hospital Wing were counting on him. He would lose the respect of both Snape and McGonagall, two people who Mungo admired. No, Mungo would not repress ancestral memory.

Mungo didn't tell Duncan about the letter. Mungo didn't really know what Duncan's reaction would be, but Mungo trusted that it would be along the lines of his parents.

Mungo soon forgot about it. He had mentally put it in the back of his mind, stored for future reference. Soon, he almost even forgot about the basilisk, so absorbed was he in his work on the potion and in his classes.

However, he was soon brought to remembrance sharply and rudely one day when word spread through the Hufflepuff common room that Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Hufflepuff boy who everyone said Potter had threatened, had gotten Petrified just the night before. This deeply shocked Mungo, as the basilisk had gotten a Hufflepuff. He had never thought that Hufflepuffs were safe, but it still came as a shock when his house got such a blow. This dedication lent even more strength to his efforts to the potion, which was now bright red. It had once been a point of discussion in the common room, what those first-years were doing, but soon it became as much a part of the scenery as the black and yellow tapestries and banners.

Mungo made a special visit to the hospital wing one day, accompanied by Duncan and some other Hufflepuffs and Professor Sprout. Most of them gathered around Justin, but Mungo and Duncan visited Crookshanks and Colin Creevey, as Mungo learned was the boy's name. Duncan laid a ball of yarn and a catnip toy next to Crookshanks, due to his affection for cats, and Mungo hung a bright yellow and red banner over Creevey's bed. He had a yellow and black banner for Justin too, but he had to wait until all the other Hufflepuffs had cleared out to put it up.

It was only then that Mungo realized that not there were four Petrified people in the room. There was also a ghost.

Mungo beckoned to Duncan, and they clustered around the bed. It was Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Mungo knew him, because Nearly-Headless Nick had once guided him to Charms when Mungo and Duncan lost their way early in the term.

Nearly-Headless Nick was a smoky opaque, making him look rather like he was made out of marble. Mungo reached out his hand, and touched Nearly-Headless Nick's arm. It was freezing cold, and had the density of light cotton.

"Let's goo Duncan. Out of hearing o' th' others." Mungo said. They went outside the hospital wing, and Mungo started talking.

"I doon't think the basilisk is weak any more. It managed to Petrify a ghost. If it was weak, Nick wouldn' be Petrified. Th' basilisk must be killing, and it Petrified Nick because he is already dead." Mungo explained.

Duncan pondered.

"You know what we should do? What we should have done in the first place."

Mungo groaned exasperatedly.

"Hoo many times have we been over this? We can't tell a teacher!"

"I wasn't talking about that, Mungo. We should have read about basilisks in the library!" Duncan said.

"Oh." Mungo said, mollified.

Duncan smiled with superiority, and continued,

"I'm going to go to the common room, to get stuff for taking notes. Then I'm going to the library. I'll see you later."

"All righ,'" Mungo agreed. Duncan rushed off, and then Mungo remembered that he needed to tend his potion right now.

Mungo started running to the common room, but when he was running down a corridor he saw someone that he really didn't need to see at that moment.

It was Erebus, the Slytherin. He had his wand out, and was smiling.

"Hello, Gorsson." He said icily. "I believe we have a score to settle."

"As do I." A voice said behind him. Mungo turned around and saw Morrigan.

"Look lads, I really doon't have time fer this, I really need t' git oon." Mungo pleaded. He really, really needed to get to his potion, or all of his efforts would be wasted.

"As if we had time to get the boils off of our faces." Erebus said. They started closing in. Mungo's blood boiled suddenly. His wand was in his hands, and he said.

"Ye jus' try it, lads. I really need t' git oon. We'll settle this later." Mungo said.

"We'll settle it now! Eiecto!" Erebus shouted, swirling his wand. A beam of light shot out of his wand, and slammed Mungo in the gut, sending him flying past Morrigan.

However, Mungo managed to keep his breath long enough to shout one spell as he went flying. He could only hope his aim would be good.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

It missed Erebus, but it hit Morrigan. Morrigan's shoes suddenly went flying into the air, turning Morrigan upside-down and making him fall painfully.

Mungo by now had landed, almost the same time as Morrigan landed. Mungo's breath was knocked out from him, and it felt like he was bruised in several places. He tried to recover his breath, gasping for it.

"What's going on?" A voice said. It was the black-haired girl that had Silenced Morrigan at the Quidditch match. Mungo hurriedly scrambled to his feet, finding his breath and his balance.

"I'm bein' attacked!" Mungo said, pointing his wand at his assailants. "Those two!"

The girl came around the corner, whipping out her wand, and saw Erebus helping Morrigan stand up.

"I really need t' git past them, t' get t' a potion that will git completely ruined if I doon't! The Petrified students are depending on it!" Mungo appealed. The girl nodded, and raised her wand.

"At least one of them is Slytherin, right?" She asked.

"Aye," Mungo said.

"Enough for me."

Erebus and Morrigan had collected themselves, and were raising their wands. Mungo suddenly had an idea.

"We're gooin' t' break right through their formation. Run right at them, yell yer head off. Then we'll jes' goo right pas' them." Mungo said, and then started running as fast as he could at Erebus and Morrigan. He could only trust that the girl would understand.

"FLEE! FLEE!" Mungo roared as he ran. Beside him, he could hear the girl shouting something as well. So she understood the tactic, excellent.

Erebus and Morrigan were completely unnerved at the sight of apparently two lunatics charging at them like some kind of stampede. They dodged to one side, and Mungo and the girl ran right past them to the end of the corridor.

"Follow me!" Mungo said, and started running to the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. He could hear the girl running behind him, but no sound of pursuit from Erebus or Morrigan.

Finally, after getting a dreadful stitch, Mungo raised his hand and staggered to a halt. He panted for a bit, and turned to the girl.

"Thank ye… kindly…" He said, gasping for breath.

"No problem… Neoni Victrine." The girl held out her hand.

"Mungo Gorsson." Mungo said, offering his hand back. But then he swiftly retracted it.

"Erm, sorry, me hand's all sweaty." He explained.

"Oh, right. Well, that was a good run. Can't say I ever ran so fast." Neoni said.

"I'm sorry I brought ye into this. Should ha' jus' been between me an' them." Mungo said, suddenly feeling guilty for asking a stranger to get involved in his conflicts.

"Well, just as well you did. You probably would have been an unpleasant mixture of a toad and a gerbil by now. Or bashed into an even worse mess." Neoni suggested.

At the word 'mixture,' Mungo suddenly remembered about his potion, still awaiting his attention.

"My sainted aunt! I have t' goo, t' take care of a dreadfully important potion. Erm, I'll see ye later." Mungo said.

"All right. Er, good-bye." Neoni said, walking down the corridor. Mungo turned the other way, and ran with what little energy he had left back to the Hufflepuff common room.

He arrived just in time to stop a thin, purple steam from filling up the room. Mungo waved the steam out the window with a bit of paper, and sat down by the potion, adding ingredients. This was the final stage of the potion, and if he messed up now, he would have to start all over again. That is, if Professor Sprout gave him another chance, with he doubted. He could almost picture Snape's disappointment as he said,

"I should have known it would have failed. Hufflepuffs should not attempt that which they cannot overcome."

Fuelled by this image, Mungo almost completely mangled the daisy roots that he was carefully slicing. He calmed himself down, and resumed his work at a normal pace.

After preparing the final ingredients, Mungo waited, spoon poised. If any sign of movement showed, Mungo had to stir the potion immediately.

"Hey, Mungo." Duncan's voice called from the entrance hole. Mungo turned his head and hissed,

"Quiet! It's in th' las' stages noo. I need t' concentrate."

"Oh, right." Duncan said, edging away and placing the books that he was carrying on another table.

Mungo turned his attention back to the potion. Hours seemed to pass, but it was only really ten minutes. Finally, Mungo leapt into the air with a yell of ecstasy.

"YES! It is finished! I did it, Duncan, I did it!" Mungo shouted, throwing tsome spare parchment into the air.

Duncan raised an eyebrow.

"I thought it was supposed to take two months?" Duncan asked.

"It does, but it just sits and ferments for the last month. But I did it, Duncan!" Mungo said triumphantly.

"Indeed. Forgive me if I sound unenthusiastic, but I just really need to get reading." Duncan said, before secluding himself into that special state of absorption that he got when he started seriously studying. Mungo saw it often during History of Magic class.

Mungo stretched in a congratulatory fashion, and then remembered about his encounter with Erebus and Morrigan.

"I say, I've completely forgotten. I had another conflict with those two, remember, Erebus and Morrigan?" Mungo said.

"Mmhmm." Duncan said noncommittally. Mungo decided now wasn't the time to tell Duncan about the Slytherin and the Ravenclaw.

"Never mind. I'm gooin' t' take th' potion t' a safe place, an' then goo t' bed." Mungo said. He put on his dragon hide gloves, and carefully picked up the potion. He walked cautiously up the stairs to the dormitory, and set it next to the window next to his bed. He looked outside and saw Hagrid, the gamekeeper, trudging along the grounds with a dead rooster. Mungo dismissed him from his mind, and went to bed.

That night he had a very curious dream. He dreamt about two men in antique uniforms, one in a yellow and red kilt. They had their wands out in a dueling style, and were obviously loathing each other.

But the image dissolved to form into two bright yellow, glaring eyes. A bright flash of scarlet flew past the eyes, and Mungo heard a horrible, screeching hiss. A book appeared briefly, with a fang embedded in the cover, and then he dreamt no more.

The next morning he didn't remember anything unusual.

The weeks passed by, and Mungo came down with an awful cold. He sat most of the days in front of the fire most days, wrapped in his cloak and cloaks that charitable Hufflepuffs had lent him. He had to leap to catch his glasses every time he sneezed so they wouldn't go flying into the fireplace.

Mungo could not wait until Christmas, though he waited for it with a kind of dull expectation because of his cold. He sent forms for presents for Duncan and his parents, and even arranged to send a package to Neoni Victrine, in gratitude for her aid. He had signed up to stay at Hogwarts, as he really dreaded the long train trip to London, and then back up to Scotland, and then all the way down again when the term started again.

Mungo was limping towards the History of Magic classroom one day, on Christmas Eve, to retrieve a book that he had left because he forgot it in the dull of state of mind that people get into when they get ill. He had turned a corridor on the third floor when he saw Potter and Weasley go furtively into a girl's bathroom. Mungo almost dismissed it, but then he remembered that they weren't supposed to be in there.

Mungo hid himself behind a statue, and waited. His book was banished from his mind, in a single-stated determination to find out what those two boys were doing.

He stood there for quite a while, until Weasley and Potter exited, followed, surprisingly, by Granger. Mungo waited until they had gone far out of sight, and then coughed a while. He then blearily entered the bathroom.

It was really dingy, but the large pillar of sinks made an interesting architectural feature. Mungo walked around it, and saw a cauldron.

Curiosity was immediately sparked. After pausing to blow his nose again, Mungo examined it closely. It looked quite a lot like mud.

Mungo scratched his head a bit, trying to find out what it could be. He sniffed it, and then it struck him.

"Oh, it's a Polyjuice Potion." Mungo determined. Then he started, and examined it again.

"But tha's illegal…" Mungo muttered.

"WILL YOU _PLEASE_ LEAVE ME ALONE!" A girl's voice shouted behind him. Mungo leapt about three feet into the air, glasses flying through the air and landing with a clatter several feet away. He violated Duncan's copyright and said,

"Davey Jones' Locker!"

He turned around, and saw a large, pearly white object that appeared to be some kind of girl.

"Why can't you people just leave me to be in my misery by myself!" She screamed into Mungo's face.

Mungo was nonplused. He held up his hand, and said,

"Hoold oon, I wan' t' git me glasses." Without waiting for an answer, Mungo dove and grabbed his glasses and put them on.

The ghost came into view clearly now. IT was a girl, in Hogwarts robes and pigtails with glasses.

"Tha's better."

"You're not even _allowed _in here!" The ghost accused, pointing a finger.

Mungo decided he might get into trouble if he didn't do something soon. He sneezed, and said,

"Well, ye let them in here." Mungo gestured to the potion. The ghost looked at it and burst into tears.

"They just burst in here, disturbing me and making my death even _more _miserable." The girl said, sobbing through her tears. Mungo patted the air where her shoulder was uncomfortably.

"There, there. Why are ye miserable?" Mungo asked, trying to calm her down.

"BECAUSE I'M MISERABLE, MOPING, MOANING MYRTLE!" She yelled, and then flew shrieking into a stall. Mungo heard splashes, and decided it would probably be best if he left.

He did so expediently, wondering why Potter and his friends were making a Polyjuice Potion. But it was soon driven out of his mind by a sudden fit of coughing, that left him hacking all the way to the Hufflepuff common room (the forgotten book, for all Mungo's means and purposes at the moment, ceased to exist.)

((Author's Note: Ancestral Memory does not actually work the way I have described it. It actually has to do with certain personality patterns that might have been inherited from when we were still whacking each other with wooden sticks, and we thought fire was the best thing since intelligent thought. It is quite a lot further than four generations. However, for the purposes of this story, it works as I have described it.))

((Author's Post-Note: Hoots! A long chapter. This should keep you busy for a while, whilst I try to write the next one. The plot thickeneth!))


	11. Chapter Eleven: The Dreadfully Secret Le...

Chapter Eleven: The Dreadfully Secret Letter

Mungo awoke the next morning, without any knowledge of what day it was. He drank his glass of Pepperup Potion that Madame Pomfrey had given to him, and waited patiently for the steam to stop coming out of his ears. He put on his hat, leaving his hair down, and got dressed into his robes. He put on his winter cloak as well, and headed for the common room.

Then he remembered what day it was. He was too sick to do anything exuberant, but he did a very small jig. He found a pile of presents with his name on them, and sat down next to them, waiting for Duncan to wake up. Mungo's patience really came in handy right now, as he waited passively for his friend to awaken.

He was counting how many colours the tapestries on the walls had, when Duncan came stumping down the stairs. Mungo smiled, and waved his hand when Duncan came in view, still in his pajamas but with his cloak on.

"Merry Christmas, Mungo!" Duncan said, and Mungo wished him the same. Then, without any further discussion, they tore into their presents like a niffler in a gold mine. The only time they talked was when they thanked each other for their presents: Duncan got a very thick, very old-looking book in German (Mungo had no notion why Duncan wanted this book), and Mungo received a book about famous Scottish witches and wizards.

Mungo's other prizes included a yellow and black plaid woolen cloak from his parents, as well as a leather wand scabbard. This was a special holder for your wand, that you just slipped onto your belt like a sword sheath. It was not advisable for wear in Muggle environs, though, but it was nice all the same.

He also got an interesting bookmark from his cousin, Penoria Browne, which not only marked his place in a book but told him what line he had been reading in a squeaky voice. Mungo additionally received a carton of Pumpkin Pasties from Neoni, in response to Mungo sending her a bag of Sugar Quills.

All in all, Mungo felt like it was a pretty good Christmas. He swapped his school robes for his plaid cloak, and Duncan and Mungo went down to eat breakfast, which Mungo spent more time eating than everyone else. After their food had settled down, Mungo and Duncan and several other Hufflepuff first-years went outside into the grounds and had a vicious snow fight. Mungo was accounting for himself rather well before he got hit in the ear and had to retire to get the snow out. The Pepperup Potion helped quite a lot with that.

Mungo and Duncan were strolling through the halls, as happy as they could be, when Mungo saw Potter and Weasley enter the bathroom that Mungo had seen them go into yesterday. Mungo stifled a sneeze with an effort, and said,

"Duncan, Potter and Weasley jus' entered tha' girls' bathroom. Yesterdee they were in there, an' Granger came oot wi' them. I investigated," Mungo sniffed quickly before resuming his narrative, "An' I foond a Polyjuice Potion there."

Duncan furrowed his brow.

"Isn't that a really rare and complicated potion? I think it was banned several times throughout the history of wizard's kind…" Duncan remarked.

"Th' point is what in blazes they are dooin' with it." Mungo said, and pointed toward the statue that he had hidden behind earlier. "Let's hide behind there, and track them."

Duncan complied, and they hustled behind the statue. It was a rather long time, or so it felt. Mungo had to hastily draw out his handkerchief as bouts of coughing struck him several times, and Duncan complained that his knees were killing him. Just as Mungo was about to launch into an argument that his knees couldn't possibly kill him as badly as Mungo's nose bothered Mungo, the door of the bathroom opened. Mungo gave a sharp exclamation as Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's henchmen, walked out.

"What are they dooin' there?" Mungo exclaimed silently after they had gotten out of hearing.

"You don't observe much, do you? Goyle was wearing Potter's glasses. Obviously, they used the Polyjuice Potion to change their appearances to Crabbe's and Goyle's." Duncan said testily. "Come on, we can find out what they're doing now. The game's afoot!"

Mungo sneezed, and started following Potter and Weasley. He wondered what kind of books Duncan read to make him say words like 'afoot.'

Potter and Weasley apparently had no idea where they were going. They wandered all over the castle, evidently hoping to bump into something. Mungo was about to get exasperated, and his throat was also starting to burn, when suddenly Potter and Weasley encountered a Gryffindor prefect. Mungo didn't know him, but he had a reputation of being snotty and bossy.

After a brief chat, around the corner came Malfoy. There was another interlude, with Potter hurriedly removing his glasses.

"Maybe Potter and Weasley are trying to get into the Slytherin common room, to try to get some information about whether anyone there is the Heir." Duncan suggested.

Mungo laughed dryly.

"Odds are they were plannin' t' play some prank on Malfoy, and they're havin' t' think pretty quick." Mungo said.

"They're getting out of sight!" Duncan whispered urgently. Mungo started forward, but Duncan placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Wait until the prefect's gone. He's probably not in a sunny state of mind at the moment." Duncan said. Sure enough, the Prefect stormed past them in such a rage that, if he had been looking at their hiding place, he would not have noticed them.

Mungo and Duncan hurried back down the corridor after Potter, Weasley, and Malfoy. Mungo was now sorely wishing that he hadn't even seen Potter and Weasley go into that rotten bathroom in the first place. Duncan, however, kept at a brisk jogging pace, and had a fierce glint in his eye.

Their quarry went down the castle, and then near the dungeons. They stopped at a blank stretch of wall. Malfoy stopped in front of a section, and the wall suddenly opened up. Malfoy, Potter, and Weasley all walked in.

"Well, tha's tha'." Mungo turned away resignedly, but Duncan grabbed onto his sleeve.

"Wait. It's not over yet." Duncan said with a steely tone to his voice.

They walked along the corridor, and found a good waiting spot.

"I doon't think we'll be findin' oot very much more. They'll stay there like idiots until their time's run oot on their Polyjuice Potion, and then goo harin' back to the bathroom, leavin' us as clueless to their findin's in there as we were when we set oot." Mungo sneezed forcefully again, dabbing his handkerchief to his nose.

"Plus, a few more minutes in this cold, drafty dungeon's gooin' t' be th' end of me. I'm gooin' back to the common room."

Duncan appeared to not hear, and said,

"I'll stay here."

Mungo gratefully left, and went back to the common room. He sat himself in one of the armchairs near the fire, and started reading a book that he had an assignment on. Mungo's gaze fell on a book on Duncan's accustomed seat. It was entitled, 'A Study in Scarlet.' By Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Mungo picked it up curiously, and read the back.

It was about some sort of detective. No wonder Duncan was acting so oddly, he was plainly under the influence of this book.

Mungo set it back down, and then realized that Duncan might get into very serious trouble if he started nosing about like a detective.

"Merlin's Beard," Mungo muttered as he gathered his cloaks (he had his woolen one and his normal, uniform winter cloak as well) about him, and exited the common room.

At the bottom of the stairs, he had a rather nasty surprise. Filch was standing there, and looked as if he had been for some time.

"Hello, Mr. Gorsson." Filch smiled rather nastily. "I believe you have a friend who would rather like to see you. A fellow by the name of Abendroth."

"Wha' did he do?" Mungo asked.

Filch grabbed Mungo's sleeve, and started leading him down the hall.

"He was spyin'. Like a little thief, trying to get into a foreign common room. Said somethin' about Potter and Weasley." Filch said, snorting sarcastically. Mungo sneezed, but, regretfully, he sneezed on Filch's sleeve, as he couldn't get to his handkerchief on time.

"Gah! Nasty boy, if you were born fifty years ago you would have been expelled for such disgusting habits." Filch said, wiping his sleeve on his coat. "As it is, I'll just have to settle for detention. Rather nasty Christmas day for you, eh?" Filch sneered.

Mungo nodded miserably as he blew his nose.

Filch took Mungo to his office, and Duncan was sitting in the chair that Mungo had been sitting in before. To Mungo's and, apparently, Filch's horror, he was holding a very special-looking envelope.

"YOU! I've had it with people sticking their noses into MY private papers." Filch said, walking over and snatching the envelope from Duncan's fingers. "They're not mine, understand, but they're still MY papers. Explain yourself!"

Duncan was so terrified by Filch's manic expression that he just opened and closed his mouth a little bit, rather like a nutcracker. Filch noticed this, and said,

"Stop gaping like a landed fish! What were you doing!"

Mungo, meanwhile, had peered blearily at the envelope. Filch's hand covered most of it with his hand, but the words "Quikspell Course: Lesson Four" showed.

"Hey, Duncan, aren't yer parents takin' a Quikspell course?" Mungo asked, with the innocent stupidity that comes along with the common cold.

Filch stopped roaring suddenly, and wiped a bit of spit from his mouth.

"What?" he asked with an empty kind of voice.

"What?" Duncan echoed.

"Aren't yer parents takin' a Quikspell course? Ye mentioned it some time, didn't ye?" Mungo asked. Then he realized that now wasn't the time to discuss Duncan's family.

"Yes, they are, Mungo. What's your point?" Duncan said in a tone of voice that told Mungo that now was most certainly not the time.

"Erm… Nothin'. Jus'… Hoots." Mungo finished off lamely.

"Well, if we have all that settled, let's get about your punishments. Ten points from Hufflepuff, for each of you. That should do for starters… You're not old enough to go to Hogsmeade… Bah, three detentions sessions with Hagrid and his gamekeeping duties ought to be enough. Better make it fifteen points each."

Mungo now gaped like Duncan. Three detentions… Traipsing about in the cold snow… Mungo was about to protest, but Duncan cut in.

"See here! I may not have been acting straight next to the line, but Mungo hasn't jolly done anything! You're just being sour and loathsome because you're a Squib!" He roared, poking Filch's jacket forcefully with his finger.

Filch, in a flying rage slapped Duncan's hand away from his jacket and backed away.

"You try to be me! You try to spend seven years with people teasing you, and asking, 'Did you snap your wand off a tree?' 'Why don't you show me and my friends here how you failed the Levitating Charm?' You try living with that!" Filch was now being very unpleasant by now, eyes popping and spittle flying from his lips, thankfully falling short of Duncan.

Mungo's lungs were very congested by now, but he made an effort to say something.

"Duncan's lived with it fer ten years. Both o' his parents are Squibs, an' I bet ye tha' two Squibs are worse than one. It's worse fer ye if yer parents are embarrassing than if ye are." Mungo said. But, as usual, he realized that he had said the wrong things yet again. Filch looked like he was going to explode, and he pointed to the door.

"**_OUT!_"** He roared.

Mungo and Duncan hurriedly complied, Mungo nearly doubled over with coughing. They walked back to the Hufflepuff common room, and sat in silent thought about the day's occurrences.

"You know what Mungo?" Duncan said at last.

"Aye, Duncan?"

"I think it best if you never, ever try to speak up for me whenever you're sick."

"Aye, Duncan." Mungo agreed.

Another awkward silence followed.

"At least we know one thing." Duncan said again, breaking the silence.

"What? Other than I'm going to need to carry Pepper-up Potion in me pockets?" Mungo said irately. His throat was quite sore again.

"We know Malfoy is not the Heir of Slytherin. Or any other suspect on our list." Duncan said determinedly.

"What makes ye say tha'?"

Duncan looked around furtively to see if no one was listening. There wasn't anyone there, most students had gone home for Christmas.

"Well, I got into the Slytherin common room myself."

"Duncan!" Mungo exclaimed, rather shocked.

"I know, I know, Mungo, but listen. I heard some Slytherins say the password, Pureblood, and I decided to get in and do some sneaking myself. I covered my badge with my scarf, and went in."

"Merlin's Beard!" Mungo exclaimed.

"I hovered in the background as Malfoy, that stupid git, absolutely _poured_ out information to Potter and Weasley. And one of the things he said was 'I wish I _knew who he was._' And then, upon closer enquiry by Potter, he said, 'You know I don't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you!'"

"Indicating that he didn't know."

"And if he didn't know, that probably rules out Erebus. And if it rules out Erebus, it probably rules out Morrigan as well."

"Well, good job, Duncan. Oh, hold on a tick." Mungo fell into a fit of sneezing, and it was several moments before he could be in a proper state to listen to Duncan.

"Soo what happened next?" Mungo asked.

"Bad luck. Potter and Weasley ran out in a very large hurry, and in passing they bumped me, and knocked my scarf off from over my badge. I didn't notice, and I was just about to leave quietly when a big Slytherin grabbed me and said, 'Little rodent stirred too far from his den!' As if he didn't know that badgers aren't rodents. Anyway, mercifully he took me to Filch instead of keeping me there and letting the other Slytherins at me."

"And noo here we are, and more hopeless than when we started." Mungo said.

However, nothing happened, despite Mungo's dire statement. December passed, as well as January with classes proceeding like normal. Everyone began to think that whatever had been in the Chamber had gone away, and Professor Lockhart even began congratulating himself on making the heir go back into hiding. It almost grew painful as he strutted up and down his classroom, bragging about what would have happened if he had encountered the Heir. Thankfully, Mungo's cold improved at the same rate as the despair of the place lessened, and Professor Lockhart's bragging grew worse, so it was not so unbearable.

His detentions with Hagrid's almost were, however. Hagrid, though enormous and very fierce-looking, was a very kindly man, but the tasks he gave them were very unpleasant. They were to bury some roosters that had apparently died, and were very smelly and dreadfully cold. Hagrid, who had a weakness for all animals overwhelming Duncan's fondness of cats, made them dig pits about three feet deep, and almost looked as if he was going to say a few words for the roosters when they had finished with all of them. Duncan grew very thoughtful over these sessions, and Mungo's hands grew cold (Several days before he had been forced to send his dragon-hide gloves back home to be mended, as they had developed a bad tear.)

After the final detention, Mungo and Duncan were heading back up to the castle in relief. It was starting to rain, one of those horrid, cold, wet, muddy storms, and Mungo was anxious to be back inside. He had, thankfully, put a water-repelling charm on his hat, so that was safe. However, Duncan and Mungo were still freezing, soaked to the bone by the rain before they had reached the castle half-way. When they reached the doors to the entrance hall, they looked as if they had participated in the Olympic belly-flop event.

"Oh! I've completely forgotten." Duncan exclaimed suddenly.

"What? Ye didn' ferget yer gloves?" Mungo asked in horror. Duncan had been kind enough to lend Mungo his gloves during his absent-minded moments, and if Duncan lost his gloves, Mungo didn't know what he would do.

"No, no, they're right here. But I discovered something about the chickens."

"Roosters." Mungo corrected.

"Exactly, roosters. You spotted it too. All the birds we buried were roosters."

"So?"

Duncan groaned.

"Didn't you read any of those books about basilisks that I got from the library?"

"Erm… I leafed through them." Mungo admitted. He had been far too preoccupied to do hardly any amount of reading at all, barely enough to do his schoolwork. Unless it was his Potions or Transfiguration homework…

"Well, there are only two things really certain to kill a basilisk: its reflection, and the crowing of a rooster. The Heir, whoever it was, killed off Hagrid's roosters."

"How do you know? Why shouldn't it be a fox or something?" Mungo asked. Duncan's theory seemed a little off to him.

"They weren't bitten or clawed." Duncan said.

Mungo shuddered and said,

"They might have gotten sick…"

"They were all damaged, and if they had gotten sick, then the hens would have gotten sick too." Duncan replied promptly.

"You read the wrong books, Duncan… Yer mind's gettin' grisly."

Duncan continued pointedly as if he hadn't heard. It had been concluded a while ago: Duncan didn't bother Mungo about plaid, and Mungo didn't bother Duncan about the books Duncan read.

"Anyway, that means the Heir of Slytherin is still around Hogwarts. And he's clever enough to know that the roosters should be eliminated." Duncan concluded. They had reached the entrance hall, and Mungo was warming his hands by a nearby torch.

"Well, we know the Heir is still around Hogwarts, he attacked barely a week ago."

"Would either of you two like a good-luck charm? I just got some from my aunt, never know when they might come in handy against the Heir!" a voice suddenly said. It was a short Gryffindor fifth-year, with his backpack rather bulging. A roaring trade had started amongst the students, and, though Mungo and Duncan themselves weren't taken in, several students in the school were, especially an accident-prone second-year Gryffindor. The trade had died down somewhat with the lack of attacks, but in some students the spark of commercial enterprise lived on.

"Noo, thank ye fer th' offer though." Mungo said, turning the vender away. The Gryffindor muttered in a frustrated voice as Mungo continued.

"Where was I?" Mungo asked Duncan.

"You repeated that the Heir was still around Hogwarts." Duncan said. He was polishing his wand, holding it up to the torchlight.

"Oh, yeah." Mungo said. Mungo was about to follow up on that thread, but then he saw Neoni coming down the main stairway. She was holding a letter, and was looking rather worried.

"I say, Neoni, d'ye care fer a word?" Mungo called out. Neoni looked up, and came over. She wrinkled her nose slightly.

"Something kind of smells…" She said cautiously.

"Oh, we were dooin' detention wi' Hagrid. But tha's noot th' point. Would ye believe us if we told ye we knew what is attacking the students?"

Duncan dropped his wand in shock.

"Mungo!" he exclaimed.

Neoni, meanwhile, looked amazed.

"You know who the Heir of Slytherin is?" She asked hopefully.

"Noo, noo, but we knoo tha' a basilisk is attacking th' students." Mungo said. Then he explained about all of his and Duncan's discoveries, and their evidence. Duncan looked very sour that Mungo was telling all this to an apparent stranger, but he held his tongue.

"But we doon't knoo who is setting it on people." Mungo said. "We jus' knoo tha' it isn' anyone from Slytherin."

Neoni looked very thoughtful. Then she said,

"But why should it necessarily be a student? Why shouldn't it be a teacher?"

That made sense to Mungo. Why shouldn't it be, after all? Adults could probably handle a basilisk better than a student.

Mungo's musings was broken by a dry cough from Duncan.

"That is indeed an interesting theory, but if one of the teachers was indeed the Heir of Slytherin, then the Chamber would have been opened much more recently." Duncan said.

"You mean it's been opened before?" Neoni and Mungo both asked at once."

"Yes, Malfoy said it had. And he said that a Muggle-born girl died that time. So, as soon as I had free time, I looked up Hogwarts' annals, and the last death at Hogwarts was fifty years ago, under circumstances that have been hushed up. And guess what? It was a Muggle-born girl."

"And the only teachers that we know who might be that old are Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall, and Dumbledore himself." Neoni murmured.

Mungo looked around the room, and saw Neoni's letter still in her hands. It was apparently from her parents, probably giving her instructions for safety. This gave Mungo an idea.

"I say, what if the Heir is actin' through an agent? Like he's noot anywhere here, but he's got a student or someone following his orders that he's sendin' from somewhere else?"

"Or maybe not even acting to his will, but using an Imperius Curse…" Duncan said.

"What's an Imperius Curse?" Mungo asked.

"An Imperius Curse is a spell that puts a person under control of the caster. The caster can make the victim do anything. Anyway, the target has to be a Parselmouth. Who's to say that someone isn't casting the Imperius Curse on Harry Potter himself?"

Neoni and Mungo thought this over. People were beginning to file into the Great Hall for lunch, and Mungo watched them with envious eyes while he thought.

"I suppose it might be plausible… I mean, noo one would suspect Potter…" Mungo said.

"Pah! No one except for about half of the school." Duncan pointed out.

"Yes, but that was after he revealed that he could speak Parseltongue." Neoni said.

"I'm hungry…" Mungo muttered.

"Yes, but he still defeated You-Know-Who, almost the last person to suspect except for Dumbledore." Duncan continued, ignoring Mungo. "He'd be the perfect tool."

"Yet, now that he has shown that he can speak Parseltongue, he's useless. Could that be why the attacks have eased up?"

"I'm still hungry…" Mungo said quietly.

"Obviously, the Heir has some kind of goal, and I sincerely doubt that he has accomplished this with just four victims. What do the students and Mrs. Norris have in common?" Duncan asked.

"They're all Muggle-born or associated with non-magicals." Mungo said, the notion dawning on him.

"What? Filch isn't a wizard?" Neoni asked, puzzled.

"No, we foond out that he's a Squib." Mungo said. "But let's discuss this later, it's gettin' crowded." Indeed, the trickle of hungry students had turned into a stream.

Mungo, Duncan, and Neoni went into the Great Hall, and Mungo and Duncan went to the Hufflepuff table while Neoni went to her House's table.

"Who was that, anyway?" Duncan asked as he ate some sausage.

"She was the girl who Silenced Morrigan, and she helped me oot a while ago against Morrigan and Erebus. Oh, right, I fergot to tell ye," And Mungo explained to Duncan about his encounter with Erebus and Morrigan.

"Oh." Was all he said.

After lunch, they couldn't find Neoni anywhere, so they went up to the Hufflepuff common room to do some more of their homework. Mungo checked on the potion (it was still fermenting, but Mungo could take it down to Professor Sprout tomorrow) and sat down, drawing a map of Jupiter as best as he could.

He was still working when he heard some Hufflepuff girls say,

"Moaning Myrtle flooded the second-floor bathroom again, honestly, you'd think she'd have gotten over it by now… Whatever it was."

Mungo's hand slipped, making an ugly black line across his map. Of _course_, it was obvious.

Mungo flung his map away from him, and went to Duncan, who was napping over his Transfiguration notes. He shook him roughly until Duncan woke up, blinking like a stunned owl.

"Duncan, I've just had a brilliant idea! We should ask th' ghosts aboot when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, and why it stopped again, and almost anything!" Mungo said, his grammar suffering in his excitement.

"Well, I suppose that would work. I saw the Fat Friar not so long ago." Duncan said, pointing at the far wall.

"That means he could be anywhere… Come oon, we should find him or some other ghost." Mungo dragged Duncan out of his couch and out of the common room.

Fortunately, the Fat Friar was right there in the corridor leading to the tower, having an argument with a portrait of a green-cloaked woman on the wall.

"I should be allowed to pass through whichever portraits I wish, Ma'am. It is my privilege as a ghost." The Fat Friar was explaining to the painting, but she would not see reason.

"If you ever pass through my painting again, I'll have you banished, I swear!" she shrieked. The Friar sighed and shook his head, and walked away. Regretfully, he walked through Mungo and Duncan.

"Gah, brr…" Duncan exclaimed.

"Oh, I say, I'm sorry." The Fat Friar apologized profusely.

"Noo, noo, never mind him. We have a question to ask you." Mungo said, interrupting. "Do ye remember when a girl died under strange circumstances, about fifty years agoo?" he asked boldly.

The Fat Friar looked disconcerted.

"Yes, yes, I do. It was a bad time, a very bad time. Lots of attacks, but they got the man responsible, and he was expelled and sent to Azkaban." He answered.

Mungo caught his breath. It was almost too good to be true.

"Do ye remember who it was?" Mungo asked with bated breath.

"Yes, I do. They expelled Rubeus Hagrid."


	12. Chapter Twelve: Rubeus Hagrid

Chapter Twelve: Rubeus Hagrid

Mungo and Duncan went back to the Hufflepuff common room in utter silence, shocked by what they had learned. Despite knowing Hagrid for only a few short detentions, Mungo had never seen any indication that the huge gamekeeper could possibly want to attack Muggle-borns. He hadn't even seen any indication that Hagrid would want anything at all to do with a basilisk, let alone kill his own roosters. However, the Fat Friar was always honest, and he had been there at the time.

Mungo puzzled over this for a long time, long after Duncan had gone to bed. It didn't make any sense, no sense at all.

For the next few weeks, there was a frantic buzz of activity as second-years decided what classes they would take in the third year. Mungo was rather upset that there could be even more work applied to an already strained load, but Duncan was ecstatic. He insisted on poring over the list of classes, and pointing out to Mungo which ones he'd like to take. All Mungo would really say on the matter was that if the classes had any more syllables, they would need a dictionary to hold them all. Duncan disapproved very strongly of this.

Mungo felt that he could be excused, as he personally felt that he was writing three dictionaries, two thesauruses, five or six almanacs, and at least seven encyclopedias with the amount of homework he was doing for the end-of-term exams. Duncan merely told him that it was the sunshine, and promptly closed all the curtains present in the room. Duncan was one of those people who believed that spring fever was an actual disease.

So they toiled, with sunshine and happy birds chirping outside the window, and enough paper-work to keep the bureaucracy busy for a good month inside. This was all, in truth,very enjoyable and normal compared to the state of terror they had been in previously, and Mungo and Duncan joined the group that said that the Monster of Slytherin would not bother Hogwarts again.

Mungo was very enthusiastic when the last Quidditch match of the season came for Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor, and had dressed accordingly: He seemed to be made of solely black and yellow. He was also holding an enormous yellow banner with bold, black words: **GO HUFFLEPUFF!** He would have written something more imaginative, but there was only so much black thread.

He had no illusions about the Hufflepuff team's playing strategy. From what he could tell, they didn't really have any. But Mungo felt like they had enough spirit to at least do themselves decently.

Mungo and Duncan had just found a nice seat, and were getting into the spirit of the thing quite well, until suddenly Professor McGonagall came running across the field. Her voice was strangely magnified.

"All students will return to their dormitories, at once. This match has been cancelled. All students return to their dormitories."

And, with a groan of disappointment and confusion, everyone proceeded to exit the stands, talking nervously and angrily and a swirl of other feelings. Mungo was no exception.

"Why the ruddy devil have they cancelled the match!" Mungo growled, as he furiously rolled up his flag on its pole. "Surely it could have waited?"

"There must have been another attack, maybe even another double attack." Duncan said worriedly. It would have been wiser if he had not said it, as people around him heard and started whispering even more anxiously.

"Coom on, oot o' this madhouse." Mungo said, dragging Duncan to one side as soon as they had gotten out of the stands. There was a thick stream of students walking towards the castle, with an occasional broomstick belonging to the players. Mungo and Duncan made sure they were a good bit in the back.

"I doon't understand…" Mungo said, shaking his head.

They entered the Entrance hall, and walked down the stairs and through the corridors to the common room. There was a frantic buzz of talking going on, with nearly everyone participating in sharing their opinions. Mungo stood to one side and nervously fingered his wand in its sheath. Things weren't right…

Suddenly, out of the tunnel popped Professor Sprout. Of course, it wasn't that rare to se her: She often came up to give announcements or praise/buck up the Quidditch team after a match. However, this time her face had a distressed, harried look, and she looked very upset as she said,

"I am most grieved to have to tell you lot that there has been yet another double attack. A Gryffindor second-year and a Ravenclaw prefect have been Petrified. Because of this, we have put forth these new rules." Professor Sprout coughed uncomfortably as the Hufflepuffs leaned close to listen.

"All students must go to classes escorted by a teacher, and must be guided between classes by a teacher. Students are not to leave their common rooms except during classes and mealtimes." Professor Sprout sighed, and rolled up the scroll she had been reading from.

"I should ask all of you to proceed with great caution." She said. She looked as if she would say more, but she lowered her head and exited the common room. The conversation started again, and there wasn't a single protesting noise at the new security measures: they felt they needed it.

Mungo went to bed early, but didn't sleep. He stood at the window, where he could just see Hagrid's hut. To think that that man could be the Heir of Slytherin, to think that he was causing all this fear…

Mungo suddenly saw a man with long silver hair, accompanied by someone else, going from the castle to Hagrid's hut. Mungo squinted, but he couldn't see who they were. They silver-haired one could be Dumbledore, but Mungo had no inkling who was with him.

They reached the door, and a small square of light appeared and then was blocked by something large. The large thing disappeared again and Dumbledore and his companion went in.

"What are you looking at?" a voice behind him asked. It was one of his fellow first-years, a skinny, sallow-faced boy named Arthur Stapleton.

"Nothing," Mungo said automatically. Arthur was a very nice boy, in his way, but he had a tendency to curve anything he heard, saw, or did himself into a state different than the uttermost truth. In less polite words, he was as slippery as a greased eel impersonating a New York hotdog.

Arthur stood next to Mungo and looked out as well.

"There's a blonde man out there. Going to Hagrid's hut. You don't think they suspect _him_, do you? It can't be Harry any more." He remarked.

"Eh? Why not?" Mungo asked, confused.

"Well, the Gryffindor second-year that was Petrified was Hermione Granger, and Harry and her are good friends. Harry wouldn't attack her. Stands to reason." Arthur said. He looked out the window again, and went back downstairs.

Mungo looked out the window again, and saw Dumbledore, his companion, the blonde man, and something very much larger than all of them which Mungo identified as Hagrid.

"They're sackin' Hagrid…" Mungo said to himself. That wasn't right.

In the morning, Mungo discovered that a good deal wasn't right after that. The school governors had suspended Dumbledore himself. Nearly everyone believed that things could not get any worse at all than with Dumbledore gone. People wandered around the corridors guided by their teachers very subdued. Nearly every face was stony.

Except for one.

Professor Lockhart was getting more and more unbearable by the second. His cheerful smile grated against everyone's nerves like gravel wrapped in sandpaper. He went on about how he always knew Hagrid was no good, and how he suspected the gamekeeper all along. Mungo had to sit on his hands to refrain himself from throwing his inkbottle or something heavier at the smiling idiot.

It didn't help matters that they were studying for their end-of-term exams. Nearly everyone had protested, but they had gotten no respite. To the first-years it was especially important: they had to pass these tests to get into the second year of Hogwarts. Tristan Sutorius, the only prefect runner-up to Percy Weasley's pompousness and bossiness, often excruciatingly emphasized this fact. He insisted on everyone drawing up study schedules to help them work, and would pester them to no end to finish them. Even then, he would pursue them in corridors and ask,

"Have you finished your study schedule? Are you sure you have the times right? You don't want to overwork yourself, mind, but you _could _squeeze in a few more hours, see, right after lunch here."

Several days later, at breakfast, Mungo and Duncan were eating their usual quiet bacon and eggs when someone tapped Mungo on the shoulder. Mungo looked around, and saw Neoni.

"Hi, I've been trying to reach you. I've just thought of something." She said. "You know who got Petrified last time, right?"

"Aye, Granger an' tha' prefect." Mungo agreed.

"Several people in Ravenclaw were saying that Potter's not the Heir any more, andthey aresaying that in Hufflepuff?" Neoni asked.

"Aye, Ernie MacMillan was just saying how he was wrong to suspect Potter, because he wouldn' attack his own friend." Mungo replied.

"Well, I've thought of a reason that Potter may still be the Heir, or tool of the Heir. You know how smart Granger is? Odds are she might have put two and two together, and she's discovered how Harry- or whoever- is attacking everyone. And Harry might have found out, and-"

"Had her eliminated." Duncan interrupted.

"But th' mandrake potion is almost ready. It wouldn' do any good yet- she'd still tell on him later."

"Unless the Heir has some other aim. Maybe he only needs her- and the rest of the victims- out of the way just for now." Duncan said.

Neoni gasped.

"What if they're after Dumbledore?"

Mungo dropped his spoon, but Duncan snorted derisively.

"Well, looks like he's defeated himself. Dumbledore's gone."

Just then the bells for nine o' clock rang, and the teachers started escorting the students to their classes. Mungo hurriedly gathered up his books (and a few more bits of bacon) and said,

"See ye later. This needs thinkin' on." Mungo said, and Neoni nodded.

However, they didn't meet Neoni again for the rest of the day. Her suggestion did make sense. What could the Heir's aim be? What was his purpose?


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Acromantula Dreamin'

Chapter Thirteen: Acromantula Dreamin' 

Mungo had an extremely odd dream that night. He dreamt that he and Duncan were walking through the Forbidden Forest. They were following a few glittering butterflies, whose wings somehow sparkled in the moonlight. They were accompanied by a huge black dog, which Mungo recognized as Hagrid's boarhound.

They walked for quite a while, and very suddenly came upon a large clearing. Duncan for some reason was looking very white, and kept twisting his mouth into weird grimaces.

The reason became apparent when several extremely large and frighteningly large spiders appeared. An exceptionally big one appeared, and they started chatting. They discussed the monster back up at the castle, compared each other's marks that they had gotten in Potions, and all in all thought that things were going pretty smooth. However, the biggest one's kids started getting hungry, and as the biggest one was fresh out of Cockroach Cluster he gave them Mungo and Duncan to eat. However, bursting out of nowhere came a great, big, blue car. They climbed in, blasted a few spiders and trundled off on their way.

And, despite the overwhelming significance of the dream, and facts that could unlock the whole mystery in an inkling, Mungo had absolutely no recollection whatsoever of what the dream was. All he could remember was a single word:

BATHROOM.

((Hi, Sorry for the REALLY short chapter. It's just that I absolute couldn't think of any way for Mungo to fit in the Aragog scene. Additionally, this being the thirteenth chapter, I don't want to dwell on it for too long. Sorry. ))


	14. Chapter Fourteen: The Chamber of Secrets

**Chapter 14: The Chamber of Secrets**

Mungo, after having the word 'bathroom' ringing around his head all morning, deduced that this thought was very strange. When he tried to get rid of it by reading a book, it shouted 'BATHROOM' in stentorian tones, and the only way it seemed to disappear was when he tried not to make it go away. So that's what he did; however, it gave him a vacant expression, and Duncan asked if he was going mental several times.

After classes about three days later, Professor Sprout came into the Hufflepuff common room with a joyful expression.

"I have wonderful news, everyone-" Professor Sprout announced. She was immediately drowned out by exuberant, happy exclamations.

"They got Dumbledore back!"

"They caught the Heir!"

"Get off of my foot, Ernie!"

Professor Sprout tossed some seeds into the air, which made thunderous banging noises, which not only restored some quiet but also rewarded Professor Sprout with some rather handsome green flowers.

"I have just discovered that the Mandrakes are ready for the Mandrake Draught. This very night, all those poor victims will be un-Petrified. We'll know who the Heir is at last!"

All of Hufflepuff cheered. Mungo felt very happy and proud, and applauded Professor Sprout with all of his might. She got slightly flustered, and left hurriedly. Right afterward, Duncan started bugging Mungo about studying for his exams again.

At breakfast next morning, Professor McGonagall announced that the Mandrakes were ready again. Despite hearing it already, the Hufflepuffs started cheering again. Mungo felt very special that Professor Sprout had told them about the Mandrakes before anybody else.

Mungo and Duncan went about their classes that day feeling very happy about the future. That night, the victims would wake up, and tell exactly who was controlling the basilisk.

Suddenly, Mungo realized what that would mean for Harry if he was the Heir, or the tool of the Heir. It would probably go badly for him… He might even get expelled.

Mungo told this to Duncan, and he went pale.

"He might do something really dreadful tonight! Maybe wrap it all up in one swoop!"

Mungo sat down on the floor in the middle of the third-floor corridor. He knuckled his forehead, grimacing with thinking.

He suddenly stood up decisively.

"You know how you said that the only things that kill basilisks are mirrors?" Mungo asked.

"Yes…" Duncan said cautiously.

"Git us some mirrors." Mungo said sharply.

"What?" Duncan asked, confused.

"Ye heard me, man, git us some mirrors. We're gooin' to confront this creature, an' Harry, or the Heir. We're gooin' t' fight it." Mungo said determinedly, staring at Duncan so hard that it seemed he was looking a good six inches into his friend's head.

"Mungo, that's impossible. We're only first-years, and we don't even know where the Chamber of Secrets is." Duncan protested, crossing his arms.

The word 'bathroom' took this opportunity to arise in Mungo's brain. Suddenly, Mungo remembered his dream, in almost painful detail. His left eye twitched.

"Duncan! I had a dream a few nights ago, about spiders and… other things. But one of the spiders said that the thing in the castle was something that even it feared, and it was as big as an elephant."

"Spiders flee from basilisks… Did you read that before?" Duncan asked.

"Noo. Anyway, that was the monster that Hagrid released. Or, rather, got expelled for. Hagrid was framed by somebody, I doon't knoo who. Anyway, the important thing was that the girl who died was found in a bathroom. What if the girl decided to haunt that bathroom?"

"That's rubbish Mungo. That could mean Moaning Myrtle-" Duncan paused, thinking. His brow furrowed.

"It couldn't hurt to ask." He finally said.

Out of nowhere, Professor McGonagall's voice came through the castle.

"_All students will return to their dormitories immediately. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please._"

Mungo and Duncan looked at each other.

"Let's git those mirrors." Mungo said grimly. His gaze was so hard that Duncan didn't argue.

However, getting mirrors was not as easy as it seemed. Mungo and Duncan wandered throughout the castle,searching for a mirror they could take,and dodging teachers and staff whenever they appeared. They couldn't go to their common room and fetch one, because then it would be nearly impossible to get out again.

They were climbing the stairs to the second floor when there suddenly came a pounding of footsteps on the stairway across the landing. Mungo caught a glimpse of Potter, Weasley, and, against all expectations, Professor Lockhart, but Duncan dragged him out of sight so forcefully that Mungo cut his lip on the wall.

"Ouch…" Mungo said, running his tongue over his wound.

"What's Bundimun doing with them? Maybe Potter captured Lockhart.."

"Never mind that, follow them!"

"Why?"

"Potter speaks Parseltongue, right? You probably need Parseltongue to get in." Mungo said, sounding half-crazed.

"Mungo, calm down- Mungo, come back here!" Duncan exclaimed, running after Mungo. He had taken off, running up the stairs to the second floor and out of hearing of Duncan. He had to catch up to Potter, had to get in…

However, something happened to make Mungo pull up sharp, eyes bulging in terror.

He had come to the writing on the wall. Below the original message, there was another one:

HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER 

"Good lord…" Mungo swore, emotions overwhelming him. He stood as if he was Petrified, staring at the words. The Heir had taken someone, maybe already killed her… Who had been taken? What was Mungo going to do?

Mungo returned to consciousness at the sound of Duncan running towards him, puffing. His face took a stern look, as stern as eleven-year-olds can get.

"Let's goo." Mungo said, going towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Duncan caught sight of the writing.

"Mungo- they've taken someone- oh, this is awful-" Duncan sputtered.

"Git a grip, Duncan, we have t' finish this once an' fer all." Mungo growled, walking to the door of the bathroom. He pushed it open with a forceful shove that knocked it against the wall.

He saw the dingy bathroom, just like it had been when Mungo had seen it last. One notable difference was that there was a gaping hole where on of the sinks had been. Moaning Myrtle was looking dreamily down it.

"Oh, what do you want?" She asked irritably. Mungo didn't answer and walked up to one of the other sinks. He smiled in satisfaction, and pulled the mirror down from over it.

"Hey, see here, that's… good enough." Duncan said, trailing off at the sight of Mungo's expression. He pulled himself a mirror, but he overbalanced and bumped into Mungo.

Mungo lost his balance in turn, and the mirror he was holding flew from his hands. It flew through the air, and shattered against a wall.

Myrtle giggled.

"Ohhh, you are in so much trouble! Seven years of bad luck! I wouldn't want to be in your shoes!"

Mungo turned red as he pulled another mirror from a sink, with Duncan babbling profuse apologies. Mungo turned to Duncan, and shook his head.

"Jus'… Doon't do it again." Mungo sighed. He didn't want Duncan going with him and risking his life, when Duncan didn't even want to. "Listen, Duncan. Goo upstairs, to th' staff room, an' tell them what's gooin' on and our opinions. I'll goo doon. You knoo what t' doo if I doon't git back." Mungo squared his shoulders, and, before Duncan could protest, threw himself down the entranceway to the Chamber of Secrets. He could hear Duncan's annoyed shout, and Moaning Myrtle's giggling.

However, something told Mungo that it had gone wrong. The slime-coated pipe slid this way and that, and finally dumped him out into a flowing stream of sewage. Mungo didn't know this, but he had somehow passed the turn that would lead him to the correct way to the Chamber of Secrets.

However, at the moment he didn't pause to think of this, as he was currently floundering in ranking water. Mungo struggled to shore, trying to keep hold of his mirror and his hat. He finally found an edge, and dragged himself up.

Drenching wet, Mungo shook some of the water out of his hair. Because of the water-repelling charm, his hat was not wet at all.

Mungo shivered. He seriously thought about putting a water-repelling charm on all of his clothes. However, he turned his attention to the task at hand. Getting a firm grip on his mirror, which had a hook on the back that he could grab and hold it like a shield, Mungo drew his wand with his other hand. He then walked carefully along the edge of the stream of sewage.

Eventually, he came to a tunnel. It was littered with small white bones of rats and things, and made crunching sounds when Mungo accidentally stepped on one. Mungo gulped nervously as he walked along the tunnel.

Quite suddenly, the full impact of what he was doing hit Mungo with full force. He was walking to encounter a fifty-foot long serpent, which could kill with its eyes, destroy with its fangs, and smash with its tail. His only defense was a grimy old mirror and a pack of half-remembered first-year spells. Mungo's knees almost gave out, but then he heard a rattle. It sounded like a rock hitting the walls of the tunnel. Mungo froze. He struggled to remember something, anything that would help him fight the basilisk.

But he wasn't given time to think. Bursting out of the side of a tunnel came a horrible, horny purple head, baring its teeth viciously. But it wasn't this, or the horrible, roaring, hissing sounds it made, that made Mungo quiver in fear.

Its eyes were gone, bloody masses of scarlet tissue. Mungo felt quite sick. His mirror was useless now.

The basilisk turned to Mungo and opened its mouth, showing fangs as long as Mungo's arm. Mungo instinctively clutched the mirror to his chest, and extended his wand. Words flowed into his head, voices offered guidance.

The basilisk lunged, moving forward with horrible quickness. Mungo brought his mirror to the front, and dodged to the left. The basilisk smashed into the mirror, but got deflected slightly by it so that it slid forward past Mungo. Mungo felt the horrible strain on his arm and cried out loud. He yanked the mirror away from the sliding, scaly body and turned to face the head.

The tunnel didn't seem wide enough for the basilisk to turn around, but somehow it did it. Folding back in an awfully tight U shape, the basilisk turned back to Mungo. Mungo swung his wand in an arc and roared the first words that came to his mind, placed there by a nameless voice.

"Incendio!" Mungo roared. Bright blue flames swirled around Mungo's wand and arced at the basilisk. It struck, and Mungo could hear the basilisk scream. Not waiting to see what his attack would reap, Mungo placed his hands on the back of the basilisk and heaved himself up and over the scaly body. Behind him, he could hear the basilisk crashing into the tunnel wall behind him.

Suddenly, an intangible presence filled the tunnel. It was subtle, but there, like thunder rolling over the hills far away. The pained basilisk raised its head, listening like a dog hearing its master's steps on the door. Then it turned itself around again, unfolding the U, and headed down the tunnel where Mungo had come from.

The voices faded from Mungo's head, and he shook it. The cold from the water came back, and his teeth chattered. He gritted them, and set down the shattered remnants of the mirror, and ran along the tunnel after the basilisk.

Mungo heard a splashing that told him the basilisk had gone into the stream. Mungo increased his pace, a stitch developing in his side. He had to stop the basilisk, had to stop the basilisk, it became a mantra as Mungo ran as hard as he could. Had to stop the basilisk, had to stop the basilisk…

Suddenly, Mungo reached a grating. It must have opened up under the water, because there was no sign of the basilisk.

Mungo stuck an arm between two of the bars of the grating. It fit all the way to the shoulder. Nodding, Mungo stepped back, and waved his wand again, saying,

"Incendio!"

The blue flames licked the bars, and made them red hot. Then they became white hot.

Mungo picked up a huge rock with both hands, and flung it at the super-heated metal. It hit, shattering the bars into lots of white-hot iron pieces. The ones that fell in the sewage caused steam to rise from it.

Mungo ran through the smoldering wreckage, anxious to catch up to the basilisk.


	15. Chapter Fifteen: The Heir of Lochmaree

Chapter Fifteen: The Heir of Lochmaree and Mungo's Reward

Mungo, finally tiring, stopped running and started walking quickly. He was beginning to wonder when the tunnel would end, when he suddenly came upon an opening. It was small, and he had to get down on his hands and knees to get through it.

When he got out, he was stunned by what he was presented with. It was a huge room, with tall pillars intertwined with life-like serpents. Mungo was on the edge of a green pool of water, on one side of a huge stone something. There was a girl on the floor before it, as well as an old book. But what drew Mungo's attention was neither of these, but a young man, maybe seventeen years old. He was very misty, but not misty enough to be a ghost. Mungo thought this was very odd, but then quite suddenly he wasn't given time to think about anything. Potter emerged from another tunnel, and knelt beside the girl.

"Yes, Potter. The process is almost complete. In a few minutes, Ginny Weasley will be dead. And I shall cease to be a memory. Lord Voldemort will return. Very much alive." The boy said. Mungo gasped, clutching the rock for support. Whoever this boy, this memory, was, this was You-Know-Who.

Just when he thought he couldn't get any more terrified, the basilisk suddenly burst from the water, lunging at Potter. He fell down, near a tatty old hat that Mungo only just noticed. It was the Sorting Hat, Mungo realized. And, for some reason, sticking out of it was the handle of a jeweled sword. Harry grabbed it, and started climbing the stone thing that Mungo was standing next too. Mungo started to run out, but his foot slipped and he fell into the water.

It was total mayhem in there. The thick coils of the basilisk churned the water, buffeting Mungo here and there. It was all Mungo could do to keep hold of his breath, his wand slipped out soon afterwards.

Mungo fought his way to the surface, and took a deep breath. He caught a frenzied glimpse of Potter standing on top of a stone statue of a bearded face, and the basilisk swaying high above the water. A powerful current pulled Mungo down again, and once again he was lost in a chaotic struggle to survive. He was pressed against the thick scaly body of the basilisk, which gave a sudden agonized twist and bashed Mungo against the edge of the pool. Mungo started seeing black.

With one last frantic effort, Mungo pushed himself towards the surface. He broke it, and gulped air gratefully. The black cleared from his eyes, and he quickly heaved himself onto the shore.

Mungo turned about to look at his situation. The basilisk was dead, lying on its back on the edge of the pool. The memory of the boy, You-Know-Who, was saying,

"You'll be with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry."

Potter was kneeling next to Ginny, with one of the basilisk's fangs in his hand. He was coated with blood, and looked very ill. Mungo gasped in realization- Potter had been bitten: he was dying.

Mungo sat down in sorrow. He didn't think he could bear any more of it.

"Funny, isn't it? The damage a silly little book can do. Especially in the hands of a silly, little girl." You-Know-Who said.

Potter looked at Ginny. Suddenly, he grabbed the book and flipped it open onto the floor. He poised the fang above it, and You-Know-Who started.

"What are you doing? No! Stop!" he exclaimed, moving forward. Potter's arm swung down, impaling the book with the fang.

You-Know-Who stopped, hunched over in agony. Mungo stared. You-Know-Who had a hole in his face, from which light was streaming. Roaring in agony, You-Know-Who lurched forward again, but Potter stabbed the book again, and another hole appeared. The holes started spreading, with You-Know-Who screaming. Suddenly, the figure exploded in a firework of golden sparks.

Something clacked against the edge where Mungo was. Mungo looked at it, and saw that it was his wand, floating on the water. Mungo gratefully snatched it up, and looked back at Potter. He was looking very ill now, and Ginny had recovered. There was also a bright red and yellow bird, standing with its head over Harry's arm. Mungo recognized it as a phoenix, and gasped. He had always wanted to see a phoenix, and now that he saw it, he felt that his desire was well warranted. It was the most beautiful bird he had ever seen.

Mungo quietly turned around, and left the Chamber by the way he had come in. He somehow felt that he should leave at that moment- his presence wasn't needed.

Mungo walked through the tunnel, and came upon a hole he hadn't noticed. It led to a long, rocky tunnel. At the end of it was a small bit of light that Mungo recognized as daylight.

"Tha's a sight fer weary eyes." Mungo muttered hoarsely to himself. He clambered into the tunnel, and started walking along it.

The rocks were very rough, and hard on Mungo's tired feet. He had to stop several times to give his aching feet a rest.

A strange, warbling bird-song came, and Mungo's heart leapt with hope. He stood up, and looked down the tunnel. Coming up it was the phoenix, with Potter, Ginny, Weasley, and Professor Lockhart all trailing after it like a string. Mungo started leaping up and down and waving his arms.

"Hey! O'er here! Help!" He shouted. However, at that moment Professor Lockhart yelled out,

"AMAZING! AMAZING! THIS IS JUST LIKE MAGIC!" completely drowning out Mungo's voice. In a few seconds, the phoenix and all the people had flown over his head, and were far out of reach and were out of sight before Mungo could do anything at all.

Mungo gaped in dumbfounded astonishment.

"Whoe'er wants t' join the "Anti-Lockhart Defense League," raise yer hand." Mungo grumbled angrily. He thrust his hand into the air, and trudged wearily on. At least his robes were a bit dryer.

Mungo emerged in a rocky outcropping near the Quidditch pitch. He breathed the fresh wind in gratefully, and the magical normality.

"Oy! Mungo! Over here!" a voice suddenly shouted. Mungo started, and looked around.

"Up here!" The voice shouted. Mungo looked up, and saw Duncan hanging by his robes on a wooden spar of the stands.

"What the devil are ye dooin' up there, Duncan?"

"I was going to Professor McGonagall, like you told me too, when Peeves appeared and shoved me into the Vanishing Cabinet. Then I appeared here, stuck. And here I've stayed for hours. Do you know, I think some of those owls laughed at me. I am glad you got out all right, though." Duncan called out. "What happened?"

"I'll tell ye when I git ye doon, Duncan." Mungo pointed out. He waved his wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Duncan's robe lifted up off the spar, and Mungo lowered Duncan gently down to the ground again. They then walked back to the castle, Mungo telling Duncan about everything that had transpired

"We've been getting wrong all along, then. Potter wasn't the tool or the Heir. It was that rotten little book. I wonder what it was?" Duncan said. "We could ask Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore's goon, Duncan, remember?" Mungo said. He pushed the door of the entrance hall open, and walked in. There wasn't anyone there.

"He came back last night. I was just about to talk to him before Peeves showed up. His office is on the second floor, I know where it is."

Suddenly, a tall, blonde-haired man appeared, in a terrible rage apparently. He had his wand out, and his face was livid.

"Out of my way!" He snarled, pushing Mungo and Duncan to one side as he exited the entrance hall.

"What's his problem?" Duncan growled. "Come one, follow me."

They walked up several flights of stairs. Mungo was beginning to smell, from the sewage. He shuddered at the notion of what Dumbledore would think when he met Mungo. However, it would lend credence to their story, even if it did add aroma.

At the end of a corridor, they saw Dumbledore emerging from a moving staircase. Gratefully, they ran up to him.

They weren't so grateful when Mungo saw the expression on his face. It looked very disappointed.

"Which one of you broke the mirror?"

Duncan shuffled his feet, looking ashamed. Mungo removed his hat and lowered his head.

"I did sir. Duncan bumped me, but it was I who broke th' mirror." Mungo said, shamed. This wasn't what he had wanted to tell Dumbledore, but it was so obviously wrong to break the mirror that Mungo immediately felt very sorry.

"It's amazing to consider that after that, you still managed to battle the basilisk and survive." Dumbledore said, a little warmth entering his voice.

Mungo looked up.

"How did ye knoo?"

"My dear Mungo, there is very little that happens in this school that I don't know. Additionally, you have the highly distinct smell of the pipes of this school, and a basilisk scale tangled in one of your badges." Dumbledore smiled a little bit. "But, I am afraid, that because you broke that mirror, you will indeed have difficulties ahead of you. Many difficulties, indeed."

Mungo nodded, not really knowing what to say. Duncan pitched in.

"I say, what sort of difficulties?" he asked concernedly.

"Well, I'm afraid that it is impossible to say. Misfortune can take many forms. But, you must take as many precautions as you can, Mungo. Most misfortune is, regrettably, dangerous. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and give the rest of the staff the good news. I've sealed the entrance to the Chamber, no harm shall ever come from there again." Dumbledore turned to go, but Mungo grabbed one sleeve.

"Please, sir, what happened? How did the Chamber of Secrets get open?" Mungo asked.

Dumbledore sighed.

"A student was bewitched by a powerful memory of Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle was the name of Voldemort," Duncan and Mungo twitched a little bit, but listened raptly. "before he became the Dark Lord, and when he was at Hogwarts. He had preserved his memory into his diary, and through it he caught poor Ginny Weasley. She did everything, painted the message on the wall, killed Hagrid's roosters, commanded the basilisk, everything. However, she did it completely against her will, and was not even aware that she was doing so. The diary is destroyed, and all is well again. I recommend you take a quick shower before the feast tonight, Mungo." Dumbledore said, smiling quickly and striding away.

"Well, I suppose that's it." Duncan said. "Let's go." Duncan walked away as well, headed for the Hufflepuff common room.

Mungo stood for a little bit, fingering something in his hand. It was the basilisk scale; it was greenish-purple, and shaped like a leaf. However, something was disturbing him slightly.

He had the feeling he had held it before.

The feast that night was wonderful, with all the Petrified students being cheered by everyone in the whole school. Everyone threw their hats into the air, except for Mungo, who staunchly refused to remove his hat from his head. More perceptive students might have noticed some kind of purple-ish green rock or something pinned to his hat, but they would have made very little of it.

The best part, to Mungo, was when Dumbledore announced that as a special treat, all the school was exempted from exams. Duncan buried his face into his mashed potatoes, upset almost beyond reconciliation. That is, if the reconciliation was weaker than a whole plate of quivering pudding that came for dessert.

The next few days passed like a dream. Mungo decided not to tell anyone of his encounter with the basilisk; they would not have believed him, and would claim that he was just jealous of Potter. However, there was one person he wanted to tell, even if she wouldn't believe him.

Mungo found Neoni in the library the day before term ended. She was reading a red book at a table, completely engrossed. Mungo uncomfortably sat down in front of her, and cleared his throat. She looked up.

"Oh, hi, Mungo." She said.

"Erm… Listen, Neoni, I've goot a rather odd thing t' tell ye." Mungo said. Then, dreading he would stall if he didn't keep on talking, he launched into his story of how he had fought the basilisk. To Mungo's amazement, she didn't call Mungo anything, but she nodded.

"Well, that was brave of you. I don't doubt you at all. I'd have done the same thing, if I could have." Neoni said. "And, apparently, your great-great-great-great grandfather would have, too."

"What?" Mungo said, confused.

"Look," Neoni said, turning the book around and giving it to Mungo.

On the left-hand page was a picture of a wizard in red robes, with his wand raised in a combative posture. Opposite him in the picture was a vicious-looking basilisk.

Under it was a caption:

Sir Frederick of Lochmaree in his Fight with the Basilisk.

"See? It's in your blood. Just keep away from Argentina." Neoni said, chuckling.

"Why?" Mung asked.

"'Cause he got imprisoned by the Muggles there for 'unexplainable substances' in his suitcase." Neoni answered.

"Oh. Well, see ye. I'll write ye some owls durin' the summer." Mungo asked, getting up.

"Okay. Have a nice holiday." Neoni said.

"Ye too. Well, good-bye." Mungo said. He extended his hand awkwardly, and they shook hands. Mungo then left to pack a few last minute things into his case.

The next day, all the students poured out of the castle into horseless carriages, and onto the Hogwarts Express. Mungo and Duncan found a compartment near the front, and didn't say anything much for the journey. When they entered London, Duncan spoke up.

"I say, why don't you come to my house sometime this summer?" Duncan asked. "I'm sure my parents would let you come."

"Sure, I'll try. My dad might need me at th' apothecary fer a bit, but I'll try." Mungo answered.

"Great! I hope you don't mind cats all that much." Duncan said.

"Noo, noot at all." Mungo said.

Then, before they knew it, they were lost in the mad rush to get out of the train and to their parents. Mungo and Duncan stuck with each other until they met Mr. And Mrs. Abendroth, where Mungo and Duncan said good-bye.

"Good-bye, Mungo! Have a nice summer!" Duncan said.

"Oh, I will. My parents doon't knoo I'm noot allowed t' doo magic!" Mungo said, grinning.

"Yes we do." The voice of Mungo's dad said.

"Bugger." ((Pardon my English.))

((Author's Note: And so concludes Mungo Gorsson and the Several Stoned Sorcerers. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you'll read Mungo Gorsson and the Room of Fairly Obvious Truths. Until next time, then.))


End file.
